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FICTION  AND  BIOGRAPHY 

33p  eit^afietl)  Stuart  fl&elps 

(MRS.  WARD) 


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HOUGHTON,   MIFFLIN  &  CO. 

BOSTON   AND   NEW   YORK 


TRIXY 


"oh,  miss  ladbie!"  sobbed  dan. 


TRIXY 


By  ELIZABETH  STUART  PHELPS 


"  Cruel  is  the  world. 
Then  be  thou  kind." 


BOSTON    AND    NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 
flEbe  fiitoer?i&e  f>tc0,  €axnbiibQt 

1904 


COPYRIGHT  I9C4    BY   ELIZABETH    STUART   PHELPS   WARD 
ALL    RIGHTS   RESERVED 

Published  October  IQ04 


TO  MY  HUSBAND 
HERBERT  D.  WARD 

Whose  generous  sympathy  and  faithful  assistance 
have  made  it  possible  for  me  to  write  this  book ; 
who  has  contributed  both  to  its  plan  and  execution 
so  largely  that  I  cannot  claim  it  as  my  unshared 
work  ;  who  is,  in  fact  (though,  by  his  own  wish, 
not  in  name),  my  collaborator  —  i"  inscribe  this 
story. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps  Ward 

Newton  Centre,  Massachusetts,  July,  1904 


''J«/^Wv) 


NOTE 

This  book  is  a  story.  Although  it  verges 
towards  one  of  the  great  tragedies  of  the  day, 
the  facts  with  which  the  tale  is  intervolved 
have  been  used  in  subordination  so  severe 
that  it  is  due  the  truth  to  say  :  the  scien- 
tific incidents  herein  related  have  their  coun- 
terparts in  history.  To  each  one  could  be 
added  its  superlative,  in  some  cases  often 
repeated.  If  Trixy  were  a  polemic,  there 
might  be  presented  a  variety  of  authentic 
physiological  diversions  as  sad  as  they  would 
seem  to  be  incredible.  Such  being  the  ma- 
terial of  the  apostle  rather  than  of  the  artist, 
these  pages  have  been  closed  to  scenes  too 
painful  for  admission  to  them. 

Yet  a  novel,  which  cannot  be  a  homily,  may 
be  an  illumination.  This  one  approaches  re- 
gions whose  very  existence  is  unknown  to  the 


viii  NOTE 

majority  of  readers,  and  doubted  by  many 
intelligent  and  kind-hearted  people. 

I  take  this  opportunity  of  saying  that  I  am 
familiar  with  the  map  of  these  dark  sections 
of  life  and  know  whereof  I  write. 

E.  S.  P.  W. 


"Mercy  and  truth  are  met  together.' 


TRIXY 


CHAPTER  I 

The  sun  struggled  to  enter  the  windows  of 
the  lecture-room.  The  tall  adjoining  build- 
ing prevented  this.  The  shaft  of  light  stopped 
on  the  window  sill,  and  wavered  with  an  un- 
certain and  troubled  air. 

It  was  November,  and  one  bare  bough 
from  a  neighboring  tree  pointed  straight  at 
the  glass.  Beyond,  the  sky  was  blue  and 
beneficent.  The  wind  was  quietly  rising,  and 
the  bough  moved  like  a  finger  extended  in 
silent  admonition. 

Some  such  thought  as  this  occurred  to  the 
second  student  in  the  tenth  row.  The  lecture- 
room  was  in  the  form  of  an  amphitheatre,  the 
seats  rising  in  tiers.  Young  Steele  could  see 
the  professor's  desk  and  table  quite  distinctly, 
as,  in  fact,  could  every  man  in  the  room. 
Our  student  was  twenty-one.  He  was  rather 
a  handsome  fellow  in  his  way,  with  a  good 
head,  and  forehead  well  developed  over  the 


2  TRIXY 

ey?s.  Tbdse  were  gray  and  kindly,  but  set 
a  little  near  >;ogethsr.  His  face  was  more 
finished  than  the  faces  of  the  students  about 
him.  His  mouth  was  not  coarse,  and  his  fea- 
tures were  agreeable.  He  had  the  bearing 
of  good  birth  and  breeding.  At  this  time 
he  was  not  destitute  of  imagination,  and  his 
heart  surged  with  the  fervors  of  youth  and 
of  science.  He  was  at  the  beginning  of  his 
professional  career.  He  had  graduated  at  a 
neighboring  college  with  honors,  not  five 
months  ago.  He  had  been  but  a  few  weeks  a 
member  of  the  medical  school.  His  studies 
up  to  this  time  had  been  of  a  rather  pleasant, 
preliminary  nature.  He  had  made  as  yet  no 
friends  in  the  upper  classes,  and  few  in  his 
own,  so  that  he  knew  little  of  what  was  going 
on  in  other  parts  of  the  building. 

Olin  Steele  had  not  chosen  his  profession 
lightly.  He  was  capable  of  ideals,  and  at  this 
period  of  his  life  he  cherished  them.  Nor  had 
he  abandoned  what  is  known  as  religious  as- 
piration. By  healing  men's  bodies,  he  meant 
to  heal  their  souls.  How  could  human  utility 
rise  to  finer  heights  ?  By  nature  gentle  and 
tender,  he  felt  that  he  loved  science  for  her 


TRIXY  3 

nobler  possibilities,  and  would  rejoice  in  all 
those  investigations  in  which  he  elected  to  be 
led.  To  this  lad,  life  was  not  only  sacred,  it 
was  adorable.  The  vital  spark  was  the  bond 
between  God  and  man.  To  preserve  this  bond 
he  believed  to  be  a  holy  privilege.  Steele  con- 
sidered himself  fortunately  fitted  for  the  pro- 
fession which  he  had  chosen.  He  was  like  a 
worshiper  between  whom  and  his  idol  a  faint 
cloud  floats.  His  attitude  towards  his  calling 
was  at  once  aesthetic  and  devout.  His  pro- 
fessor was  his  high  priest. 

The  lecture-room  was  fdling  rapidly.  The 
boys  came  in  laughing  and  talking.  Some  had 
their  cigarettes  in  their  mouths,  for  the  pro- 
fessor had  not  yet  arrived.  There  was  a  cer- 
tain tension  in  the  air  that  would  have  been 
noticeable  to  a  fine  observer.  Some  of  the 
students  had  a  constrained  look,  and  others 
exhibited  a  species  of  nervousness. 

Olin  Steele  sat  very  quietly.  Now  and  then 
he  glanced  at  the  door  by  which  the  lecturer 
would  enter.  Some  of  the  fellows  chaffed  him 
for  his  silence,  but  he  scarcely  replied.  He 
was  absorbed  in  the  subject  of  the  morning's 
lecture. 


4  TRIXY 

He  was  aroused  from  his  reverie  by  a  small, 
sharp  pain  in  his  neck.  A  broadside  of  laugh- 
ter from  the  students  brought  him  to  his  full 
senses.  He  then  became  aware  that  he  was 
at  once  scratched  and  caressed.  A  little  claw 
clung  to  his  collar,  and  something  fuzzy  and 
soft  nestled  under  his  ear.  Putting  up  his 
hand  with  the  instinct  to  protect  the  small,  he 
clutched  a  puff  of  warm  life,  and  was  greeted 
in  return  by  a  little  purr. 

"What  the  —  "  began  Steele.  "Who's 
putting  kittens  down  my  back  ?  " 

He  turned  completely  around,  and  his  eyes 
met  those  of  a  classmate  who  regarded  him 
mockingly.  The  newcomer  was  short,  ill- 
favored,  and  muscular.  His  hair  was  red  and 
coarse,  and  stood  up  like  a  broom  from  his 
forehead.  His  eyebrows  and  lashes  were  too 
pale  to  be  visible.  His  complexion  was  muddy, 
his  ears  prominent,  and  his  mouth  low. 

"  Oh,  it 's  you,  is  it,  Bernard  ?  I  might  have 
known  it,"  said  Steele  without  cordiality.  At 
the  same  moment  he  drew  the  kitten  from  his 
neck  to  his  lap,  and  began  to  stroke  it.  He 
was  rather  fond  of  cats,  and  the  kitten  knew 
it.    It  began  to  purr  loudly.    It  was  a  beauti- 


TRIXY  5 

ful  maltese  kitten,  clean  and  well-brushed  ;  a 
broad  pink  ribbon  was  tied  around  its  gray 
neck. 

"  What 's  this  ?  "  demanded  Steele,  "  a  class 
mascot  ?  Where  shall  we  keep  it  ?  Where 
did  you  get  it,  Bernard  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Bernard,  "  I  —  it  —  I  picked  it 
up  ;  that  is,  it  followed  me." 

"Couldn't  keep  away  from  you?"  sug- 
gested one  of  the  fellows. 

"Where  did  it  matriculate?"  asked  an- 
other. 

"  Never  you  mind,"  retorted  Bernard,  with 
an  unpleasant  wink.    "  It  will  matriculater." 

The  kitten  was  now  quite  at  home  with 
Steele,  who  began  to  analyze  his  classmate's 
pun  with  vague  apprehension.  Olin's  hand 
closed  over  the  little  creature  protectingly. 
With  a  sinuous  motion  it  turned  on  its  back, 
and  daintily  began  to  claw.  It  exhibited  all 
the  graceful  and  exasperating  coquetry  of  its 
race.  It  withdrew,  it  challenged,  it  kissed,  it 
purred,  it  scratched,  with  that  bewildering 
inconsistency  which  makes  a  kitten  the  most 
fascinating  and  inconsequent  creature  in  the 
animal  kingdom. 


6  TEIXY 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it  ? " 
asked  Steele  abruptly. 

The  students  had  now  formed  a  circle  about 
him,  and  the  kitten  looked  confidingly  from 
face  to  face. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  replied  Bernard.  "  I 
have  n't  made  up  my  mind." 

"  I  understand  we  're  short  of  material," 
observed  a  man  carelessly.  "  The  frogs  have 
struck." 

"  What !  "  cried  Steele. 

Several  hands  had  stretched  out  to  caress 
the  kitten,  who,  pleased  with  the  hospitality 
of  the  lecture-room,  was  now  playing  from 
shoulder  to  shoulder,  like  a  squirrel  from 
bough  to  bough. 

"  Let  me  have  it."    Steele  got  to  his  feet. 

"  No,  you  don't ! "  replied  Bernard.  "  Whose 
cat  is  it,  anyhow  ?  " 

"  Not  yours  !  "  said  Steele  quickly.  "  Tell 
me  where  you  got  it.  I  '11  take  it  back.  It 
must  live  right  around  here.  It  is  a  lady's 
pet.  Look  at  the  ribbon  !  —  Let  me  have  it !  " 
urged  Steele,  appealing  from  Bernard  to  the 
students. 

These  glanced  from  the  happy  kitten  to 


TRIXY  7 

their  red-headed  classmate  doubtfully.  Over 
their  faces  warring  expressions  chased.  Most 
of  them  looked  troubled  and  sorry. 

"  Oh,  come  off,  Bernard,"  said  one  of  the 
fellows.    "  Let  him  have  the  cat !  " 

The  speaker  held  the  kitten  towards  Steele's 
outstretched  hands ;  but  Bernard's  cold  fin- 
gers, interrupting,  closed  upon  the  little 
shrinking  creature. 

"  I  '11  take  care  of  it,"  he  said  sullenly. 

The  kitten  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then 
looked  into  the  young  man's  mutinous  face, 
and  purred  insinuatingly. 

"  There !  "  cried  Steele,  dropping  to  his 
seat.    "  It  trusts  you.    Now  take  it  back." 

His  clouded  face  cleared  as  Bernard  turned 
away.  When  the  kitten  was  taken  from  the 
room,  some  of  the  students  applauded  slightly  ; 
others  exchanged  significant  looks,  and  were 
silent. 

The  room  was  now  full.  The  lecturer  was 
already  overdue.  He  appeared  suddenly  in  a 
fresh,  white  blouse.  He  began  to  talk  at  once, 
without  any  preliminaries,  upon  the  subject 
of  the  day. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  the  class  had  met 


8  TRIXY 

the  professor  of  physiology  in  the  amphi- 
theatre, and  they  were  singularly  attentive. 
The  subject  of  the  lecture  was  elementary,  and 
one  which  text-books  have  always  amply  illus- 
trated. 

Steele  listened  conscientiously.  He  had 
been  a  high-honor  man,  and  his  industrious 
pencil  flew  over  his  note-book.  He  did  not 
find  the  topic  abstruse,  and  he  was  rather  dis- 
appointed at  its  simplicity.  He  glanced  at 
some  of  the  nearest  students  to  see  if  the 
subject  seemed  as  clear  to  them.  Meanwhile 
Bernard  had  returned  to  the  room,  and  had 
resumed  his  seat,  which  was  directly  behind 
Steele.  The  kitten  was  gone,  and  Steele  drew 
a  breath  of  relief.  His  eyes  sought  the  win- 
dow, and  he  noticed  that  the  November  sun 
had  clouded.  The  wind  had  now  risen,  and 
the  bare  bough  knocked  on  the  glass.  A  pair 
of  white  pigeons  flew  across,  and  one  of  them, 
pausing,  dropped  to  the  sill  of  the  window,  and 
seemed  to  peer  for  a  moment  into  the  room. 

"  Look  at  the  dove  !  "  whispered  one  of  the 
boys. 

"  That 's  no  dove.  That 's  a  pigeon," 
sneered  Bernard,  from  behind. 


TRIXY  9 

The  professor,  annoyed  by  the  whispering, 
paused  and  shot  a  reproving  glance  at  the 
class.    The  white  bird  flew  away. 

"  And  now,  gentlemen,"  continued  the  pro- 
fessor, "we  have  reached  a  point  in  our  stud- 
ies where  experimental  illustration  becomes  a 
clear  necessity.  I  have  endeavored  up  to  this 
time  to  impress  upon  your  minds  the  fun- 
damental nature  of  the  great  discovery  with 
which  we  deal.  I  have  tried  to  show  you 
how  "  —  he  proceeded  to  explain  learnedly 
what  he  had  tried  to  do.  "  But,"  he  pursued, 
"  in  our  profession,  gentlemen,  unsupported 
theory  —  I  might  add,  unsupported  fact  — 
may  confuse  the  mind  of  the  student  more 
than  it  enlightens.  I  have  now  been  lecturing 
to  you  for  half  an  hour  upon  this  basic  princi- 
ple, yet  probably  many  of  you,  possibly  most 
of  you,  have  received  but  an  obscure  impres- 
sion of  the  beautiful  workings  of  this  great 
law.    Gentlemen,  am  I  right  ?  Is  this  not  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  !  "  came  from  various  parts  of  the 
room. 

Steele  looked  about  him  with  a  touch  of 
intellectual  scorn  on  his  parted  lips. 

"  Why,  no,  sir,"  he  said  respectfully.    "  If 


10  TRIXY 

you  will  excuse  me  for  saying  so,  I  have 
found  your  explanation  of  the  subject  remark- 
ably clear.    I  think  I  understand  it." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  it  demonstrated,"  in- 
terpolated Bernard,  in  a  strident  voice. 

The  professor  smiled  blandly.  He  paused, 
laid  aside  his  notes,  and  beckoned  to  his  as- 
sistant. This  person  left  the  room,  and  passed 
into  the  adjoining  laboratory.  The  professor 
examined  his  instruments  and  apparatus.  He 
touched  them  with  deft  and  craving  fingers. 

"  Ah,  gentlemen,"  he  announced  with  an 
expression  of  something  like  pleasure,  "  here 
is  our  subject." 

The  laboratory  door  opened  silently.  The 
returning  assistant,  who  held  something  be- 
fore him  in  his  outstretched  hands,  reached 
the  professor's  table  before  young  Steele  had 
seen  what  the  man  carried.  Half  a  hundred 
students  caught  their  breaths.  It  was  their 
first  experience  of  this  sort,  and  most  of  them 
were  still  soft,  kind-hearted  lads,  fresh  from 
their  homes,  where  dogs  sprang  down  the 
doorsteps  to  meet  them,  and  kittens  played 
with  skeins  of  yarn  held  on  mother's  or  on 
sisters'  hands. 


TRIXY  11 

But  Steele,  unconscious  that  he  did  so,  got 
to  his  feet.  His  face  had  blanched.  His  lips, 
drawn  over  his  teeth,  quivered.  A  vein  in  his 
temple  throbbed. 

Before  him,  on  the  operating  board,  strapped 
down,  lay  a  little  downy  form.  Seeing  it  in 
its  unnatural  position,  one's  sense  of  its  beauty 
gave  way  to  a  sense  of  its  color  and  size.  The 
kitten  was  gray  and  small.  It  seemed  to 
Steele's  horrified  eyes  the  smallest  kitten  he 
had  ever  seen.  By  some  mistake  on  the  part 
of  the  assistant,  a  ribbon,  caught  under  the 
body  of  the  annual,  hung  over  the  edge  of 
the  board.    This  ribbon  was  pink. 

"No!  No!"  gasped  Steele.  "Not  that 
one ! " 

"  Oh,  shut  up,  and  sit  down  !  "  growled  Ber- 
nard from  behind. 

But  Steele  did  not  sit  down.  He  swayed 
slightly  on  his  feet.  A  sick  faintness  surged 
upon  him.  Every  fibre  of  his  body  and  soid 
protested.  For  the  medical  student  had  a  soul, 
and  it  was  young  and  sensitive. 

The  professor,  who  had  been  regarding  his 
subject  critically,  now  took  up  his  instruments. 
Steele  stood  staring.    The  kitten  swam  before 


12  TRIXY 

his  gaze.  It  seemed  to  him  to  turn  its  eyes 
(for  it  could  not  turn  its  head)  towards  him. 
He  felt  that  it  sought  protection  of  him.  He 
wheeled,  and  scorched  Bernard  with  a  look. 
The  room  grew  dark  about  him,  and  he  made 
for  the  door. 

"  Damn  you  !  "  he  said. 

Swaying  and  groping,  he  tried  the  handle. 
The  door  was  locked.  The  professor  laid 
down  his  instruments.  In  taking  up  this  de- 
partment with  his  junior  classes  he  was  not 
without  experience  in  the  reflex  action  of  un- 
sullied natures.  He  was  always  considerate 
of  this  juvenile  weakness  which  he  knew  that 
time  and  himself  would  train  away. 

"  Go  for  the  janitor,"  he  whispered  to  his 
assistant.    "  The  boy  is  ill.    Let  him  out." 

When  Steele  found  himself  in  the  outer 
air,  he  sat  down  on  the  granite  steps  of  the 
college.  He  was  still  faint  and  giddy.  He  was 
so  ashamed  of  himself  for  his  weakness  that 
he  could  have  cried.  He  put  his  face  in  his 
hands,  and  ground  his  teeth.  He  fancied 
himself  the  jest  of  every  student  in  the  amphi- 
theatre.   This  intolerable  thought  drove  the 


TKIXY  13 

blood  to  his  head  ;  and  his  physical  weakness, 
which  otherwise  might  have  lasted  longer,  fled 
before  his  keen  emotion.  He  started  to  his 
feet,  and  stood  hesitating.  Should  he  return 
to  the  lecture-room  ? 

Swiftly  there  seemed  to  sweep  before  him 
that  pretty  fluff  of  maltese  down  —  the  broad, 
pink  ribbon  —  the  little  gymnast,  leaping  like 
a  squirrel  from  shoulder  to  shoulder  —  its 
cuddling  touch  beneath  his  ear  —  its  happy 
and  confiding  purr ;  he  thought  of  its  pulsat- 
ing vitality,  its  spark  of  divinity.  As  swiftly, 
there  smote  upon  his  consciousness  a  vision 
of  that  warm,  live,  small  creature  —  as  it  was, 
now. 

"  I  can't  go  back  !  "  he  cried  ;  then  in  a 
different  tone,  "  I  won't  go  back  !  " 

He  ran  down  the  long  gray  steps  and  into 
the  street.  This  he  crossed  quickly,  but  with 
an  aimless  movement.  His  mind  was  in  a 
whirlpool  of  indecision.  He  seemed  to  be 
swirling  nearer  and  nearer  —  to  what  ?  A 
gulf  ?  or  a  rescue  ?  The  familiar  blue  cars  of 
his  suburban  street  passed  him  without  ap- 
pealing to  his  attention.  He  walked  because 
he  must  walk,  and  he  walked  a  long  time.    It 


14  TRIXY 

occurred  to  him  at  last  that  he  was  headed 
towards  home,  and,  with  a  clutch  at  the  heart, 
he  felt  that  it  was  the  only  place  where  he 
could  go.  By  this  time  the  pallid  sun  had 
been  gulped  by  massing  clouds,  and  a  dark 
storm  was  imminent.  Olin  bent  his  head,  and 
pushed  his  way  into  it.  The  surcharged  air, 
like  his  surcharged  emotion,  lashed  him  on. 
He  felt  that  no  tempest  could  be  fierce 
enough  to  flush  the  imagination  that  tor- 
mented him.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  would 
have  offered  up  his  soul  if  he  could  have  been 
born  without  sensitiveness  —  like  that  big- 
eared  fellow  for  instance.  He  was  lacerated, 
and  he  must  be  healed.  He  pushed  on  me- 
chanically. The  blue  cars  passed  him.  Be- 
fore he  was  aware  of  it,  he  had  reached  the 
group  of  stately  elms  at  the  corner  of  his 
father's  street.  He  had  tramped  six  miles. 
As  he  turned  in  at  the  long  avenue,  his  dog 
—  a  fine  St.  Bernard  —  leaped  upon  him  with 
boisterous  caresses.  He  was  so  absorbed  that 
he  did  not  return  them,  and  the  dog,  droop- 
ing, followed  him  wistfully. 

Olin    fitted    his    latch-key    with  trembling 
hand,  and  went  into  his  father's  house.    The 


TRIXY  15 

dog  remained  on  the  porch.  Afterwards  he 
remembered  that  he  must  have  shut  the  door 
in  Barry's  face. 

"  Why,  my  son  !  "  his  mother  called  from 
somewhere,  "  I  did  n't  expect  you  until  night." 

Olin  murmured  something  unintelligibly, 
tossed  off  his  dripping  hat,  and  went  upstairs 
to  his  own  room.  Then  he  locked  the  door, 
and  there  he  remained  until  night.  His  mo- 
ther came  up  and  knocked  gently. 

"  I  am  sorry,  mother,"  he  pleaded,  "  I 
can't  see  you  now.    Please  let  me  alone." 

His  sister,  who  was  a  very  modern  girl, 
came  and  whistled  like  a  boy  through  the  key- 
hole. 

"  Go  away,  Jess,"  he  said,  "  don't  bother 
me." 

These  were  women,  and  easy  to  manage. 
The  boy  reflected  that  his  father  and  brother 
were  yet  to  come  home,  and  that  with  them 
he  must  absolutely  reckon. 

At  dinner  time  nothing  had  been  heard 
from  him.  His  troubled  mother,  with  the  pa- 
thetic patience  of  her  sex,  had  watched  for 
the  light  in  his  windows,  but  these  were  still 
dark.   She  could  contain  her  anxiety  no  longer, 


16  TEIXY 

and  he  heard  the  rustle  of  her  skirts  at  his 
door.    She  knocked  timidly. 

"Dear  Olin,"  she  said,  "let  me  come  in." 

He  rose  at  once  and  admitted  her.  The 
room  was  dark,  except  for  the  glow  of  the 
open  fire.  She  saw  his  wet  coat  sprawled  on 
a  chair  before  him.  He  had  returned  to  the 
lounge  on  which  he  had  evidently  been  lying 
all  the  afternoon.  His  bright-colored  bath- 
blanket  was  drawn  over  him. 

His  mother  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the 
couch,  and  took  one  of  his  hands  in  both  of 
hers. 

"  You  're  feverish,"  she  said.  "  You  have 
taken  cold.  What  is  the  matter,  Olin?  Tell 
me  all  about  it." 

"  Mother !  "  cried  the  young  man,  sitting 
up  sharply  against  the  pillows  of  the  couch, 
"  I  can't  go  back  to  that  medical  school.  I 
never  can.  I  am  going  into  business.  I  hate 
them  both  ! " 

His  mother  was  silent  for  so  long  that  he 
repeated  his  phrase  mechanically :  "  I  never 
can!" 

"  I  am  sure,  my  son,  that  you  must  have  a 
good  reason  for  this  unexpected  decision,"  re- 


TRIXY  17 

plied  Mrs.  Steele,  with  an  agitation  of  which 
she  gave  no  evidence  whatever.  She  had  an 
unobtrusive,  well-bred  voice,  but  it  was  as 
monotonous  as  a  metronome. 

"  Reason  !  "  Olin  exploded,  "  I  should  think 
I  had !  " 

He  was  about  to  tell  the  whole  story,  when 
there  was  a  tramping  in  the  hall  outside  his 
door.  His  father  and  brother  came  into  the 
room,  led  by  the  sister  to  whom  he  had  denied 
entrance.  With  a  twist  of  his  fingers,  Mr. 
Steele  turned  up  a  light. 

"  What  's  the  matter  here  ?  "  he  cried. 
"Are  you  sick,  Olin?  I  thought  this  was 
your  night  for  being  in  ?  " 

"I  am  not  going  back,  sir,"  replied  Olin 
manfully.  He  got  to  his  feet  and  faced  the 
most  formidable  obstacle  that  a  young  man  can 
meet  or  conquer  —  the  opposition  of  his  entire 
family.  In  a  few  blazing  words  he  told  his  story. 

His  sister  interrupted  it  now  and  then  with 
girlish  outcries  (these  were  ejaculations  rather 
of  incredulity  than  of  sympathy)  and  his 
mother  visibly  winced.  But  the  two  men 
exchanged  glances,  and  it  was  Olin's  elder 
brother  who  spoke  first : 


18  TRIXY 

"  I  assure  you,  Oily,"  he  said,  "  you  '11  get 
over  that,  very  soou.  You  must  have  beeu  a 
little  out  of  order.    I  felt  so,  once." 

"  You  felt  so  once,  and  you  don't  feel  so 
any  longer,"  persisted  Olin,  "  and  that 's  my 
very  point.  I  don't  mean  to  get  where  you 
are.  Since  you've  been  teaching  biology 
you  're  not  the  same  fellow  you  used  to  be, 
Dick.  You  can  do  anything  and  not  turn  a 
hair." 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  hard  lift- 
ing of  the  eyelids  that  was  quite  natural  to 
her,  "  that  it  can't  be  as  bad  as  you  think." 

"  Oh,  do  be  still,  Jess,"  said  Olin  testily. 

"  You  can  be  squeamish  in  any  business 
you  undertake,  you  know,  Olin,"  observed  his 
father.  Mr.  Steele  spoke  gravely  and  not  un- 
kindly. "  I  understand,"  he  proceeded,  "  that 
the  medical  profession  is  the  noblest  in  the 
world.  I  should  be  disappointed  if  you  aban- 
doned it.  How  is  it,  Dick  ?  "  He  turned  to 
his  oldest  son.  "  Are  these  things  really  as 
bad  as  Olin  thinks  ?  I  don't  remember  that 
you  ever  mentioned  it  ?  " 

"  Science  to-day  is  based  upon  such  ex- 
periments,"  replied   the   young  professor   of 


TRIXY  19 

biology  firmly.  "  Modern  medical  science  is 
founded  upon  the  rock  of  comparative  physi- 
ology, and  it 's  no  use  Olin's  beating  his  head 
agrainst  it." 

"  Are  you  sure,  my  dear,"  asked  Mrs.  Steele 
feebly,  "that  Olin  is  entirely  wrong?" 

The  young  professor  flushed.  "I  should 
think  I  ought  to  know,"  he  said. 

Richard  Steele,  senior,  stood  thoughtfully 
silent.  His  commercial  importance  was  envi- 
able, and  his  social  position  was  that  which 
his  wife,  whose  family  was  as  influential  as 
his  fortune,  had  brought  him.  But  it  must 
be  admitted  that  he  felt  himself  at  a  loss  in  a 
biological  or  pathological  direction.  If  it  had 
been  Assam  Pekoe,  or  Young  Hyson  —  but 
bacteria  and  antisepsis  were  out  of  his  line. 
The  tea  merchant  looked  from  one  of  his 
highly  educated  sons  to  the  other  in  a  per- 
plexity which  he  would  on  no  account  have 
acknowledged.  When  he  spoke,  he  did  so 
slowly  and  seriously. 

"  I  have  told  you  what  I  think,  now,  Olin. 
But  you  are  old  enough  to  judge  for  your- 
self. Take  what  time  you  need  to  decide 
this  matter  to  your  satisfaction.    Isn't  dinner 


20  TRIXY 

ready,  my  dear  ?  "  He  turned  to  his  wife 
with  a  courtly  smile. 

Oliu  stood  at  bay  before  the  four  people 
whom  he  loved  best  in  the  world.  The  two 
gentlemen  and  the  ladies  were  in  dinner  dress. 
Standing  there  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  with  that 
ridiculous  bathrobe  over  his  shoulders,  he  felt 
himself  at  the  distinct  disadvantage  which 
external  trifles  may  create.  His  purpose  had 
not  wavered,  but  the  power  to  express  it  had 
weakened. 

"  I  've  told  you  how  I  feel,"  he  said  des- 
perately. Instinctively  his  eyes  sought  his 
mother's.  Hers  answered  him  with  an  inef- 
fectual sympathy. 

"  Don't  you  want  me  to  send  Tibbs  up  with 
your  dinner  ?  "  she  asked  affectionately. 

"  Thank  you,  Mummy,  dear,  I  am  not  dry 
yet.    You  see  it  will  take  so  long  to  dress." 

The  girl  had  already  gone  downstairs. 
The  two  gentlemen  followed.  The  lad's  mo- 
ther lingered  for  a  moment.  She  put  her 
arm  around  his  neck,  and  laid  her  cheek  to 
his. 

"  Was  it  a  very  pretty  kitty,  dear  ?  "  she 
whispered. 


TRIXY  21 

The  boy  put  his  head  upon  her  shoulder 
and  began  to  sob. 

"  Oh,  mother  —  it  was  so  small.  Oh, 
mother,  mother  !    It  was  damnable  !  " 

Now  they  had  all  gone  away  —  except 
Tibbs,  who  brought  up  the  dinner  and  set  the 
tray  down  on  the  little  table  by  the  lounge, 
as  if  he  were  serving  a  sick  person. 

Olin  tried  to  eat,  but  could  not.  At  every 
effort  some  disturbing  memory  of  the  morn- 
ing's experience  or  the  afternoon's  emotion 
prevented  his  healthy  young  appetite.  He 
flung  himself  back  upon  the  lounge,  and  lay 
there,  face  down,  in  the  pillows.  He  was  torn 
by  the  first  great  moral  conflict  of  his  life. 
It  seemed  to  him  almost  like  a  living  thing, 
some  savage  thing  that  had  been  endowed 
with  intelligence,  but  not  with  mercy.  It  was 
to  this  excited  and  exhausted  lad  as  if  he 
could  feel  its  claws  upon  his  heart.  In  the 
actual  sense  of  the  word  he  writhed  beneath  it. 

"I  won't ! "  he  cried.  "  I  will  not  go  back 
to  that  —  I  never  can.    I  never  will !  " 

While  he  lay  there  wrestling  with  his  angels, 
something   tried  the  closed   door.    A    slight 


22  TRIXY 

push,  a  bumping  scratch,  and  a  long  whine 
pleaded  for  admission.  Olin  opened  the  door 
at  once,  and  the  St.  Bernard  came  pant- 
ing in. 

"  Why,  Barry,"  he  said,  "  I  'm  glad  to  see 
you.  I'm  afraid  I  was  rather  uncivil  to  you, 
too,  when  I  came  home  —  out  there.  .  .  . 
How  it  did  storm,  Barry !  —  And  how  it 
storms  now  !  " 

The  dog  lifted  serious  ears  towards  the 
window,  which  shook  beneath  the  malignant 
rain. 

Downstairs  Olin's  sister  was  singing  at  the 
piano  —  some  foolish  thing.  The  smoke  of 
his  father's  cigar  and  his  brother's  came  up 
through  the  closed  door. 

"  We  've  got  to  have  it  out  alone,  Barry," 
said  Olin  aloud.  "  They  can't  understand, 
Barry,  can  they  ?  " 

Olin  put  his  arms  about  the  big  dog,  and 
looked  rather  piteously  into  his  eyes.  Barry 
kissed  his  master,  but  with  dignity.  In  the 
drawing-room  the  girl  had  left  the  piano,  but 
while  Olin  sat  with  his  arms  about  Barry's 
neck  another  hand  brushed  the  keys,  and 
the  low  strains  of  a  fine   rendering  of  Ten- 


TRIXY  23 

ny son's  great  prelude  breathed  through  the 
house. 

"  That 's  mother,  Barry,"  said  Olin.  "  Jess 
never  plays  anything  sacred." 

His  mother  did  not  sing ;  she  was  not 
young  enough ;  but  she  played  delicately  and 
well.  The  young  man's  memory  fitted  the 
words  to  the  chords  by  which,  he  thought, 
she  seemed  to  be  trying  to  speak  to  him. 

"  Strong  Son  of  God,  immortal  Love  ! " 

Olin  respected  the  religion  of  his  mother, 
and  he  listened,  not  without  reverence. 

"  There  's  something  in  it,  Barry,"  he  said. 
"  Some  time  I  '11  make  up  my  mind  how 
much.  Come,  Barry  !  Say,  Barry,  what  shall 
we  do  ?  " 

Barry  observed  him  solemnly. 


CHAPTER  II 

If  there  were  one  thing  more  than  any  other 
to  which  Miss  Lauriat  cultivated  a  rohust  ob- 
jection, it  was  colored  teas ;  and  this  one  was 
yellow. 

"  Orange  corset  covers  on  the  electric  bulbs, 
and  lemon  petticoats  on  the  lamps,"  she 
thought.  "  Ochre  bonnets  on  the  candles,  and 
corn-satin  sashes  on  the  tables !  This  is  no 
place  for  me  —  I  am  going." 

She  had  already  sacrificed  to  this  occasion 
an  hour  of  her  impatient  young  life ;  she  felt 
that  she  had  better  uses  for  it.  So  far,  she 
had  seen  only  the  too  familiar  faces  of  her  so- 
cial system.  The  astronomy  was  old,  and  it 
had  become  wearisome.  She  sought  her  hostess 
to  take  her  leave.  A  gentleman,  evidently 
bent  on  the  same  errand,  retreated  a  step  or 
two,  to  give  her  precedence. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Miriam,"  said  the  lady, 
"before  you  go  I  must  present"  —  She  turned 
to  the  hesitating  man,  and  introduced  him  with 


TRIXY  25 

that  indifference  to  the  personal  cognomen 
which  is  characteristic  of  social  elocution. 

The  two  accepted  their  fate  resignedly. 

"Do  you  like  these  colored  things,  Dr. 
Reel  ?  "  began  Miss  Lauriat  promptly. 

"Candidly,"  replied  the  young  man,  "I 
don't  think  pink  teas  are  the  final  expression 
of  existence." 

"  But  this  one  is  yellow." 

"  Is  it  ?  "  He  looked  at  the  decorations  with 
the  unseeing  gaze  of  a  man  whose  color-blind- 
ness is  not  that  of  the  optic  nerve.  "  I  thought 
they  were  always  pink." 

Miss  Lauriat  laughed  merrily. 

"  Is  the  palette  of  your  life  couleur  de  rose? 
Fortunate  man !  " 

A  scarcely  perceptible  change  of  expression 
replied  to  her. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said  promptly,  "  I  was 
just  going." 

"  So  was  I,"  he  returned,  looking  straight 
at  her,  "  but  even  a  man  may  change  his  mind." 

Miss  Lauriat  was  a  tall  girl,  so  that  her 
eyes  were  quite  on  a  level  with  those  of  the 
young  man.  She  answered  his  look  with  the 
amused  indifference  with  which  she  was  accus- 


26  TRIXY 

tomed  to  receive  admiration.  Her  air  of  dis- 
tinction was  enhanced  by  her  clinging  black 
dress  (according  to  the  code,  she  should  have 
ceased  to  "  mourn  "  for  her  father  some  time 
ago),  through  whose  sleeves  and  high  yoke  of 
lace  her  throat  and  arms  gleamed  faintly.  Her 
hair  was  black,  but  her  eyes,  though  dark,  were 
blue.  Her  expression  was  at  once  earnest  and 
playful.  She  was  a  woman  of  twenty-seven ;  but 
she  had  kept  a  certain  girlish  look  of  which 
she  herself  was  unconscious. 

The  two  talked  for  a  little,  as  people  do  at 
such  functions,  drifting  as  they  did  so  leisurely 
towards  the  door.  Beneath  the  inevitable  per- 
siflage each  discerned  a  certain  seriousness  in 
the  other. 

"  Now,  Dr.  Peel,"  she  said  at  last,  "  I  really 
must  go.    I  have  an  important  engagement." 

"A  blue  tea,  I  suppose,  this  time?"  His 
eyes  mocked  while  his  mouth  smiled. 

"  They  make  it  in  an  earthen  teapot  where 
I  am  going,  and  steep  it  all  day,  and  drink  it 
out  of  a  bowl  —  with  condensed  milk." 

"  That  seems  somehow  familiar,"  said  the 
doctor.  "  Perhaps  we  are  going  to  the  same 
place." 


TRIXY  27 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  the  young  lady 
outright,  "  and  what  do  you  do  ?  " 

"For  one  thing,"  replied  the  physician 
lightly,  "I  am  a  member  of  the  Board  of 
Health.  This  is  my  last  day  in  that  illustrious 
position  —  which  I  have  resigned.  I  go  out 
of  office  to-morrow.  By  the  way,"  he  added, 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  wanted  to  escape 
the  topic,  "  I  think  my  father  used  to  know 
yours." 

"  Oh,  we  're  all  in  the  same  set,  I  suppose," 
replied  the  young  lady  indifferently.  She  did 
not  ask  any  questions.  He  flushed  slightly  at 
this  obvious  omission,  bowed,  and  left  her. 

Her  carriage  was  waiting,  and  she  made  her 
way  to  it  as  quickly  as  she  could.  As  she 
gathered  up  her  short  train  and  stepped  in, 
she  hesitated. 

"I'll  tell  you  in  a  minute,  Matthew;  I 
have  n't  quite  made  up  my  mind.  How  late  is 
it?"  She  glanced  at  the  carriage  clock.  "I 
think  there 's  time.  I  must  see  Dan.  How  is 
it  about  taking  the  horses  down  that  alley  ? 
Do  you  think  they  're  equal  to  it?  " 

"  They  was  snowballed  into  highsterics 
last  time,"  replied  the  coachman  cautiously. 


28  TRIXY 

"  But  I  don't  suppose  you  're  dressed  for 
walkin',  Miss?" 

Miss  Lauriat  glanced  at  her  thin,  long  dress, 
over  which  she  had  closely  folded  her  carriage 
cloak. 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  'm  not,"  she  said.  "  If  you 
think  you  can  manage  —  No !  Drive  home 
first.  I  can  get  ready  while  you  're  turning 
around.  It  is  not  dark  yet,  you  see.  We 
can't  have  Dan  evicted  for  a  few  dollars'  rent 
—  can  we,  Matthew  ?  " 

"  You  're  the  only  friend  the  gossoon 's 
got,"  said  Matthew,  with  his  forefinger  at  his 
hat.  He  drove  rapidly ;  Miss  Lauriat's  house 
was  but  two  blocks  removed,  in  fact,  from  the 
yellow  tea ;  and  within  five  minutes  she  was 
running  up  her  own  steps  with  the  girlish 
energy  of  her  perfect  health  and  absorption 
in  subjects  outside  of  herself.  In  the  vesti- 
bule the  parlor-maid  offered  information  :  Mr. 
Surbridge  was  in  the  library  —  him  and  Mrs. 
Jeffries. 

"  Don't  tell  them  I  've  been  in,  Maggie," 
said  the  young  lady  hurriedly.  "  It 's  a  busi- 
ness call,  and  they  won't  need  me  till  I  get 
back.    If  they  ask  —  say  I  've  had  to  go  right 


TRIXY  29 

out  again,  and  Auntie  will  please  invite  Mr. 
Surbridge  to  stay  to  dinner.  I  '11  be  back  in 
twenty  —  no,  in  twenty-five  minutes." 

She  changed  her  dress  with  the  deft  swift- 
ness of  a  young  lady  who  is  independent  of 
her  maid,  —  making  a  pretty  transformation 
from  chiffon  and  lace  to  broadcloth  and  furs, 
—  ran  downstairs  quietly,  and  Matthew 
whirled  her  away. 

It  was  the  middle  of  March,  and  still  light. 
One  of  the  heavy  snowstorms  characteristic 
of  the  month  —  swiftly  coming  and  as  swiftly 
flowing  —  had  exasperated  the  city  with  a 
foot  of  now  grimy  slush.  Miss  Lauriat,  with 
the  sense  of  color  Avhich  was  strong  in  her, 
thought  of  country  fields  and  lawns  where 
the  deep  blue  light,  never  seen  on  sea  or 
land,  answered  to  the  eye  that  loved  it,  and 
knew  when  to  seek  it.  It  could  be  found  only 
in  late  snow-falls,  or  after  sundown.  In  the 
east  side  of  the  town,  whither  Matthew  was 
driving,  the  streets  were  not  cleared,  and  the 
horses  soon  began  to  put  their  noses  down  and 
drag.  The  man  stopped  them  at  the  head  of 
a  black  alley.  Driving  the  wheels  upon  the 
sidewalk,  he  let  the  young  lady  out.    Matthew 


30  TRIXY 

had  the  resigned  expression  of  a  coachman 
whose  mistress  is  hopelessly  given  over  to 
philanthropy.  He  was  quite  used  to  this  sort 
of  thing. 

"  I  shall  be  gone  fifteen  minutes/'  said  the 
young  lady.    "  Wait  for  me  just  here." 

She  picked  her  way  more  quickly  than 
daintily  down  the  filthy  street.  (It  went  by  the 
name  of  Blind  Alley.)  She  did  so  with  the 
ease  of  one  who  was  quite  accustomed  to  it. 
Here  and  there  she  was  recognized  with  the 
sullen  respect  or  the  servile  flattery  of  people 
who  have  to  be  benefited  against  their  wills. 
She  stopped  before  a  large  wooden  building, 
recently  painted,  well-ordered,  and  conspicuous 
among  its  neighbors  for  a  front  door  that  shut, 
light  in  the  entries,  unbroken  windows,  and  fire- 
escapes.  As  she  put  her  foot  upon  the  lowest 
step  the  door  opened,  there  was  a  penetrating 
hospital  whiff,  and  a  gentleman  followed. 

"  You  can't  come  in  here,"  said  a  deep 
voice  gruffly.  "  Nobody  can.  I  'm  going  to 
station  a  policeman  at  the  door  to  keep  every 
one  in  —  and  every  one  out." 

As  the  speaker  stood  with  his  back  against 
the  closed  door,  he  suddenly  lifted  his  hat. 


TRIXY  31 

"  You  !  I  beg-  your  pardon  ;  I  did  not  re- 
cognize you." 

"  What  are  you  doing  in  my  house,  Dr. 
Beal  ?  "  Miss  Lauriat  let  the  words  out  slowly 
and  haughtily.  She  ascended  the  steps,  and 
would  have  brushed  by  him.  But  he  faced 
her  with  his  hand  upon  the  latch. 

"  There  is  a  case  of  diphtheria  here.  I  'm 
going  to  have  the  card  up  immediately." 

"  I  can't  believe  it ! "  cried  Miss  Lauriat 
hotly.  "  I  know  every  family  in  the  building. 
I  keep  them  very  clean.  The  sanitary  condi- 
tions are  excellent.  It  is  impossible.  I  've  got 
to  see  one  of  my  tenants  immediately.  My 
agent  was  going  to  evict  him  —  Please  stand 
aside,  sir.    I  am  going  in." 

"  The  Board  of  Health  has  taken  posses- 
sion of  your  tenement,  madam,  and  I  am  very 
sorry,  but  I  must  insist." 

"  So  must  I,"  she  retorted.  "  The  house  is 
mine." 

"  But  the  responsibility  is  mine,"  he 
flashed,  reddening.    "  You  cannot  come  in." 

It  was  now  a  duel  between  the  citizen  and 
the  state,  and  the  girl  yielded  perforce. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  use  my  authority," 


32  TRIXY 

continued  the  physician  in  a  different  tone. 
"  The  laws,  you  know,  are  strict ;  and  life," 
he  hesitated,  "  is  precious." 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  you  can't  help  yourself," 
replied  Miss  Lauriat,  not  very  graciously. 
She  took  a  sudden  step  or  two  backwards  and 
lifted  her  face  towards  the  windows,  most  of 
which  were  crowded  with  weeping  women  and 
angry  men. 

"  You  poor  people  !  "  she  cried,  "  I  can't 
help  it,  and  you  know  I  can't.  I  would  if  I 
could.  I  would  do  anything.  Who  is  it  that 's 
sick  ?  Where  is  Dan  Badger  ?  I  must  speak 
with  Dan." 

Her  upturned  throat,  showing  white 
through  the  hurrying  twilight,  rose  from  her 
furs  like  a  carving  by  Canova  set  upon  velvet. 
Her  impassioned  face,  fired  by  the  beauty  of 
selflessness  and  pity,  swam  before  the  doc- 
tor's eyes.  It  puzzled  him  as  much  as  it 
thrilled  him. 

A  woman's  voice,  shrill  and  sobbing,  came 
down  from  above.  "  It 's  Cady's  Molly  — 
Dan  's  right  behind  you,  Miss.  lie  's  lucky. 
He  's  outside.    I  wish 't  we  was  !  " 

"  I  won't  forget  you,"  Miss  Lauriat  called 


TRIXY  33 

up  in  her  rich,  generous  voice.  "  I  '11  see  the 
doctors.  I  '11  send  a  nurse.  I  '11  do  all  I  can. 
Perhaps  there  is  n't  anything  in  it  after  all. 
It  may  not  he  diphtheria  at  all !  Perhaps  it 's 
only  a  sore  throat." 

The  doctor  smiled  at  this  unconscious  in- 
sult to  his  profession  and  his  office ;  but  the 
tenants  were  comforted. 

"  Here  I  be,  Miss,"  said  a  plaintive  voice 
behind  her. 

"  Oh,  Dan !  "  The  young  lady  turned 
quickly.  An  undersized,  crippled  lad,  leaning 
on  one  crutch,  stood  in  the  muddy  snow, 
watching  her  like  a  dog.  "  So  Mr.  Smithers 
was  going  to  turn  you  out,  was  he  ?  Why 
didn't  you  pay  your  rent?" 

"  Could  n't,"  said  Dan  patiently.  "  Trixy  's 
been  sick  with  a  cough." 

"Where  is  Trixy  now?" 

"  Gone  to  market  for  supper  —  acrosst  the 
alley.    I  'm  a  watchin'." 

Still  with  his  back  to  the  door,  the  doctor 
silently  observed  the  scene.  He  was  waiting 
for  his  assistant  to  come  back  with  an  officer. 

"  You  can't  go  back  there,  Dan,"  said  the 
lady   ruefully.    "  This   gentleman    won't   let 


34  TRIXY 

you.    Somebody's  sick  inside.    What  will  you 
do?" 

"We'll  get  in  somewheres,"  said  Dan 
sweetly ;  "  there  's  places.  Don't  you  fret, 
Miss  Laurie." 

"  Oh,  I  can't  have  that  sort  of  thing,"  said 
Miss  Lauriat  decidedly.  "  You  and  Trixy 
come  to  the  coach  house  this  evening.  We  '11 
put  you  up,  somehow." 

The  officer  arrived  at  this  moment,  and  the 
physician  gave  way,  escaping  from  his  uncom- 
fortable position  with  evident  embarrassment. 
As  Miss  Lauriat  turned  to  go  back  through 
the  darkening  alley,  he  joined  her  timidly. 
She  noticed  that  he  kept  as  wide  a  space  be- 
tween them  as  the  narrow  and  now  freezing" 
sidewalk  permitted. 

"  I  am  really  very  sorry,"  he  observed  with 
a  touch  of  something  like  humility  which  sat 
awkwardly  upon  his  dogmatic  manner,  "  that 
I  was  forced  to  annoy  you  so." 

"  It  does  not  signify,"  answered  Miss  Lau- 
riat, without  cordiality.  He  did  not  reply,  and 
they  had  walked  in  silence  and  constraint  for 
some  twenty  paces,  when  something  whirred 
through  the  air,  and  the  young  lady  stopped 


TRIXY  35 

and  staggered.  A  big  chunk  of  half-frozen 
slush,  shot  from  an  angry  hand  in  the  quar- 
antined building,  and  aimed  at  the  retreating 
Board  of  Health,  had  missed,  and  hit  the 
girl.  A  tiny  trickle  of  blood  stirred  over  her 
soft  cheek. 

"  Oh,  damn  them ! "  cried  the  doctor  be- 
tween his  ground  teeth,  —  "I  beg  your  par- 
don !  —  Where  are  you  hurt  ?  " 

"  Nowhere,  I  think,"  replied  Miss  Lauriat 
quickly.  "  Really,  it  is  nothing  —  just  a 
scratch.  It's  only  my  ear  —  a  little.  They 
did  n't  mean  to.  You  know  they  did  n't.  Oh, 
how  sorry  they  will  be  !  " 

She  put  up  her  soft  handkerchief,  and 
brushed  away  the  warm  stain  on  her  face. 

"  Get  out  of  this  as  fast  as  you  can ! " 
commanded  the  doctor  savagely.  He  hurried 
her  along.  "  It 's  no  place  for  you,  anyhow," 
he  persisted.  "  Why  do  you  come  here  ?  what 
do  you  do  it  for  ?  " 

They  had  now  come  in  sight  of  the  car- 
riage, where  Matthew,  in  his  robes,  cape,  and 
cap,  sat  like  an  Esquimau  in  a  fur  bag. 
Something  in  this  little  touch  of  ease  and 
luxury  caused  the  doctor  to  draw  his  breath 


36  TRIXY 

with  quick  relief.  At  least  she  was  now  quite 
safe,  —  and  really  not  hurt ;  no,  plainly  not 
hurt,  as  she  said.  Meant  to  hurl  an  ugly 
blow  upon  the  Board  of  Health,  the  missile 
had  cost  the  lady  but  a  scratch. 

"What  do  I  do  it  for?"  repeated  Miss 
Lauriat,  without  looking  at  him.  "  I  doubt  if 
I  could  make  you  understand  why,  Dr.  Reel." 

She  put  her  gray-gloved  hand  upon  the 
open  carriage  door.  His  eyes,  which  were 
not  of  a  warm  tint,  scrutinized  her  in  chill 
perplexity. 

"  Pardon  me,  Miss  Lauriat,"  observed  the 
young  man,  "  since  you  are  not  hurt  —  are 
you  quite  sure  ?  " 

"  Perfectly." 

"  And  you  do  not  need  any  help,  profes- 
sional or  any  kind  ?  And  you  do  not  wish  me 
to  accompany  you  home  ?  —  I  can  ride  out- 
side—  I  would  not  expose  you  to  the  least 
risk,  of  course." 

"  It  is  quite  unnecessary,  thank  you,  Dr. 
Deal." 

"  Then  allow  me  to  say,"  protested  the 
young  man,  "  that  my  name  is  not  Deal. 
Neither  is  it  Beal,  nor  was  it  ever  Peel.    And 


TRIXY  37 

I  particularly  object  to  being  called  Dr.  Reel. 
My  name,  at  your  service,  is  Steele." 

"  Thank  you,  Dr.  Steele,"  repeated  Miss 
Lauriat,  laughing  heartily.  "I  will  try  to 
remember." 

Laughing  too,  he  bowed  and  left  her.  As 
he  turned,  standing  bareheaded  before  her, 
she  began  at  once  talking  to  Matthew. 

"  Oh,  Matthew,  before  I  forget !  I  've  in- 
vited Dan  and  Trixy  to  come  and  stay  till  we 
can  find  a  place  for  them.  You  can  put 
them  up  somehow,  in  the  coach  house  — 
can't  you?  " 

Matthew  assented  to  this  astounding  pro- 
position with  the  puzzled  patience  of  a  man 
whom  no  sociological  caprice  could  stagger. 
Miss  Miriam  was  capable  of  so  much  worse 
than  this,  that  Matthew  counted  himself  lucky 
to  escape  with  entertaining  Dan  and  Trixy 
for  a  few  days.  He  remembered  the  fall 
when  she  brought  home  from  the  shore  an 
old  woman  who  had  never  seen  the  city,  or 
been  on  a  railroad  before ;  installed  her  in 
the  big  guest  room  that  had  (Maggie  to  wit- 
ness) the  best  lace  spread  ;  brought  the  old 
lady  to  the  table  with  the  family,  and  required 


38  TRIXY 

the  servants  to  wait  on  her  for  a  week  ;  which, 
it  must  be  admitted,  they  did  with  attention 
and  amusement,  as  if  they  had  been  partici- 
pating in  a  pretty  play. 

It  was  quite  dusk  when  Miriam  got  home. 
She  lingered  only  to  give  a  few  orders  about 
the  comfort  of  the  crippled  lad,  and  went  at 
once  to  the  library,  where  her  aunt  and  her 
lawyer  were  still  deeply  engaged. 

Surbridge,  at  the  herald  of  her  first  footfall, 
had  risen,  and  stood  awaiting  her  with  that 
perfect  command  of  expression  for  which  his 
calling  equipped  him.  Yet  one  could  suppose 
that  he  was  by  nature  spontaneous  and  candid, 
and  that,  like  most  men,  he  had  been  modeled 
by  his  avocation  quite  as  much  as  he  had 
moulded  it.  His  warm,  dark  eyes  warred  with 
his  firm  lip,  and  his  quietness  of  manner  was 
of  the  sort  which  may  reveal  the  presence  or 
conceal  the  absence  of  ordered  strength. 

At  this  moment,  for  example,  Miriam  knew 
—  she  had  known  him  all  her  life  —  that  he 
was  nagged  to  exasperation  by  his  professional 
call  upon  Mrs.  Percy  B.  Jeffries,  who  was  the 
fussiest  investor,  and  the  most  unmanageable 
client  on  the  young  attorney's  list. 


TRIXY  39 

Miss  Lauriat  extended  her  hand  with  an 
unconscious  expression  of  condolence. 

"Auntie,  I  hope  you  've  cultivated  the  sweet 
quality  of  mercy  for  Mr.  Surbridge  ?  Between 
the  two  of  us  I  should  think  he  would  regret 
that  he  was  ever  admitted  to  the  bar.  Last  time 
we  kept  him  an  hour  drawing  up  a  lease  that 
could  have  been  written  in  five  minutes.  And 
now —  Has  she  decided  yet  how  to  place 
that  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  Phil?" 

"  It  is  one  thousand,"  replied  Mrs.  Jeffries 
severely,  pushing  her  papers  about  the  library 
table ;  she  stirred  them  as  if  she  were  making 
a  pudding. 

"  Pardon  me,"  suggested  Surbridge  gently. 
"  You  will  lose  those  X.  and  R.  A.  coupons. 
Allow  me  "  —  He  secured  the  X.  and  R.  A.'s 
(these  were  wafting  towards  the  fireplace)  with 
a  motion  that  seemed  in  itself  a  tribute  to  the 
business  qualities  or  the  personal  quality  of 
his  client.  He  had  the  deference  of  manner 
which,  while  it  may  be  a  stimulant  to  young 
women,  is  a  cordial  to  an  old  one. 

"  One  would  suppose,"  complained  Mrs.  Jef- 
fries, "  that  I  was  ever  inconsiderate  of  Mr. 
Surbridge !  " 


40  TRIXY 

Miriam's  eyes  waltzed.  But  those  of  the 
young  lawyer  met  hers  sedately ;  neither  the 
music  nor  the  merriment  in  him  responded. 
She  experienced  something  like  a  sense  of  be- 
ing rebuked.  She  thought :  "  Phil  i^  a  loyal 
fellow.    Poor  Phil!" 

Miriam  stood  between  firelight  and  gaslight, 
still  in  her  furs  and  her  small  black  hat.  Her 
long  cloak  had  fallen  from  her  shoulders.  Her 
color  was  warm  and  fine.  Her  young  face 
and  high  head,  touched  with  a  swift  humility 
which  sometimes  beatified  as  much  as  it  beau- 
tified her,  drooped  a  little,  and  the  flare  of 
the  fire  revealed,  when  she  turned  her  soft 
throat,  a  small  crimson  stain  below  the  right 
ear. 

Surbridge  uttered  an  inarticulate  exclama- 
tion. 

"  You  're  hurt !  "  he  added  audibly. 

But  Mrs.  Percy  B.  Jeffries  snapped  a  rubber 
strap  around  her  X.  and  R.  A.  bonds  before 
she  put  on  her  glasses  to  examine  her  niece's 
cheek. 

"  It  is  no  more  than  we  can  expect,"  she 
said  without  agitation.  "I  live  in  constant  fear, 
Philip,  of  that  child's  life.   Such  places  —  such 


TRIXY  41 

people  —  such  risks  !  If  she 's  gone  two  hours 
beyond  her  time,  I  telephone  to  the  hospitals. 
I  am  always  conscious  that  I  may  find  her 
there  in  some  mangled  condition.  Turn  more 
to  the  light,  Miriam  —  so." 

"  I  'm  not  hurt  in  the  least !  "  cried  Miriam 
angrily.    "  I  told  you  so  !  " 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  Surbridge,  "  you  did  not 
tell  us  anything  about  it." 

"  Well,  I  will,"  replied  Miriam,  in  a  tired 
voice.    "  It 's  all  the  same." 

"  Maggie  will  get  the  Pond's  Extract,"  de- 
cidedly said  Mrs.  Jeffries,  with  her  hand  on 
the  bell. 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Cornelia !  "  pleaded  Miriam 
rather  crossly.  "  I  'm  going  right  upstairs. 
I  '11  take  care  of  myself.  All  I  want  is  a  drop 
of  water.  If  you  don't  let  me  alone,  I  won't 
tell  you  how  it  happened.  I  'm  not  hurt  in 
the  least.  Why  don't  you  believe  me,  when  I 
say  so  ?  " 

She  threw  off  her  furs,  and,  standing  with 
one  hand  on  the  knob  of  the  dark  door,  be- 
gan, rather  reluctantly,  to  give  the  story  of 
the  afternoon.  Surbridge  heard  it  without  a 
word.    But  Mrs.  Jeffries  mused  : 


42  TRIXY 

"  Steele  ?  Steele  ?  I  wonder  which  Steeles 
—  the  Theodores  or  the  Richards?" 

"  This  must  be  one  of  Richard  Steele's  sons," 
suggested  Surbridge  thoughtfully.  "He  has 
two.  I  know  them  both.  One  of  them  is 
rather  a  brilliant  fellow  —  the  other  is  slower. 
Can  you  describe  the  man  you  met  ? "  He 
addressed  Miriam  with  more  abruptness  than 
was  natural  to  him. 

"  No,"  replied  Miriam,  after  an  almost  im- 
perceptible pause.  "  I  don't  know  why  I  can't 
describe  him,  but  I  can't.  I  think  he  was 
rather  pale  —  and  tall,  and  stern.  It  seems  to 
me  his  eyes  were  gray,  and  cold,  and  perhaps 
set  a  little  near  together.  He  said  he  was  a 
member  of  the  Board  of  Health." 

"  That,"  answered  Philip  Surbridge,  "  is 
the  new  professor  of  physiology  at  Galen. 
He  has  held  the  assistant  chair  for  a  year, 
and  now  he  takes  the  place  left  vacant  by  the 
old  professor's  death.  He  is  considered  one 
of  the  most  brilliant  young  men  who  ever 
came  back  from  Berlin  and  Vienna." 

The  lawyer  gathered  three  more  X.  and 
R.  A.  coupons  which  Mrs.  Jeffries  had  con- 
trived to  whisk  into  the  waste  basket,  and  filed 


TRIXY  43 

them  neatly  in  a  small  envelope,  carefully  in- 
scribed with  his  client's  name. 

"  That,"   he  added  gravely,  "  is  Olin.    It  is 
Olin  Steele." 


CHAPTER   III 

When  Miss  Lauriat's  carriage  stumbled 
through  the  freezing  slush  and  staggered 
away  from  him,  Dr.  Steele  stood  for  a  moment 
with  his  lifted  hat  in  his  hand.  He  could 
not  have  told  why  he  did  so,  and  recalling 
himself  with  a  slight  change  of  color,  walked 
rapidly  away.  He  did  not  go  home,  but  with 
the  impulse  which  leads  a  man  to  delay  im- 
pending thought  or  feeling  by  distraction, 
turned  in  the  direction  of  his  club.  There  he 
dressed  and  dined.  He  sat  at  what  was  known 
as  the  doctors'  table,  by  courtesy  and  custom 
relegated  to  members  who  represented  his 
profession.  The  usual  crowd  was  there,  and 
fell  into  the  usual  talk  ;  that  evening  it  was 
something  about  the  new  bacillus.  Steele 
took  but  little  part  in  it;  he  was  taciturn  to 
a  marked  degree.  When  a  rising  young  spe- 
cialist commented  on  his  silence  he  retorted : 
"I  don't  feel  like  talking  shop  to-night," 
and  changed  the  subject  to  the  art    school 


TRIXY  45 

that  had  been  opened  near  the  medical  build- 
ing. 

The  specialist  stared  a  little ;  he  retreated 
before  the  topic,  with  which  he  was  unfamiliar; 
he  regarded  art  somewhat  as  he  did  Christi- 
anity,  homeopathy,  or  psychical  research  ;  one 
of  the  inevitable  delusions  of  an  uninstructed 
class  of  minds. 

Dr.  Steele  left  the  club  as  soon  as  he  had 
smoked,  and  went  directly  home.  A  storm  of 
wind  and  sleet  had  come  up,  and  when  he 
plunged  into  it  from  his  blue  street-car,  some 
gad-fly  of  association  stung  into  his  brain  the 
acute  remembrance  of  another  evening,  ten 
years  ago,  when  he  had  come  home  in  a  storm, 
—  it  seemed  to  him  a  storm  which  had  lasted 
ever  since. 

The  tense  experience  at  the  amphitheatre, 
the  disturbed  scenery,  the  agitated  actors  at 
home,  returned  to  him  like  the  impression  of 
an  old  play,  a  good  deal  set  with  mock  thun- 
der and  mechanical  weather.  He  recalled  it 
with  a  smile  as  small  and  as  sharp  as  a  scal- 
pel. A  something  between  disdain  and  incre- 
dulity cut  into  his  face.  He  thought  of  that 
young   being,  afire  with    aspiration,    molten 


46  TRIXY 

with  sympathy,  to  whom  his  profession  was  a 
veiled  god,  and  its  worship  a  beautiful  cult  — 
that  rather  noble,  altogether  pitiable  boy. 

"  Poor  fellow!  "  he  said  ;  as  one  says  it  of  a 
cripple  or  any  defective  who  is  worsted  in  the 
scheme  of  things.  And  yet  so  unmanageable 
are  the  immaterial  laws,  he  had  this  perfectly 
unreasonable  and  unwelcome  idea  about  the 
storm,  as  if,  as  we  say,  the  tempest  that  had 
set  in  that  night,  ten  years  ago,  had  never 
been  laid. 

To  family  preference,  to  professional  in- 
fluence, to  the  accepted  view  of  things,  he  had 
succumbed.  The  powers  and  principalities  of 
the  reigning  science  had  arrayed  themselves 
against  the  student's  passionate  protest, — 
and  what  was  the  outcry  of  one  lad  ?  He  had 
"no  language  but  the  cry;  "  and  that  had  been 
stifled  almost  in  the  utterance.  From  the  hour 
when  he  had  said,  "  Yes,  Father,  I  will  go 
back,"  he  had  never  lifted  his  young  voice 
asrain.  Yet  in  brain  and  heart  the  winds  had 
gone  warring  on.  In  every  cavern  of  his  being 
turmoil  had  raved.  For  now  a  comfortable 
time,  as  a  man  estimates  time  and  comfort,  he 
believed  himself  to   have  escaped  the  whirl- 


TRIXY  47 

wind.  Was  there  an  undertow  in  the  air,  as 
in  the  sea?  What  was  this  suction  which 
dragged  him  back? 

In  the  course  of  Olin  Steele's  career  he  had 
experienced  not  a  few  things  which  it  was 
more  agreeable  to  forget  than  to  remember. 

One  of  these  was  his  flight  from  the  lecture- 
room  to  his  father's  home  —  he  reeling  under 
the  first  great  shock,  and  hitting  out  blindly 
anyhow  in  the  first  great  moral  battle  of  his 
life. 

"Then,"  he  said  aloud,  as  he  splashed 
through  the  stiffened  snow  of  his  own  avenue, 
"  why,  then  I  was  a  sensitive  and  devout  boy  ! " 

He  spoke  as  if  that  boy  had  died.  Besides 
that  lad,  his  father  too  was  gone  —  which  of 
them  had  met  the  kinder  fate  ?  Fate  hits  one 
man  by  way  of  a  faulty  mitral  valve,  and  an- 
other through  an  enfeebled  aspiration.  Heart 
failure  counts  its  thousand  victims,  but  con- 
science failure  its  tens  of  thousands. 

Olin  had  returned  from  Germany  to  a 
changed  and  colorless  home.  Since  the  day 
when  her  dead  husband  was  brought  to  her 
from  the  Chamber  of  Commerce,  where  he 
had  fallen  in  the  middle  of  a  speech  on  reci- 


48  TRIXY 

procity,  Mrs.  Steele  had  lapsed  into  an  uncom- 
plaining and  incurable  invalidism.  Her  mind, 
always  more  gentle  than  strong,  had  partaken 
to  some  extent  of  her  bodily  weakness.  She 
had  become  a  sweet  dependant,  to  be  spared 
everything.  It  was  a  long  time  since  Olin  had 
shared  anything  with  her.  His  sister  had  left 
home  some  years  ago  ;  it  was  his  forever  unut- 
tered  conviction  that  the  girl  married  to  avoid 
the  care  of  her  invalid  mother  ;  it  was  difficult 
to  postulate  Jess  as  in  love,  under  any  social 
syllogism ;  it  amused  him  that  she  had  mar- 
ried a  retired  Arctic  explorer.  His  elder  bro- 
ther was  still  a  member  of  the  household.  But 
Dick  was  considering  a  call  to  the  presidency 
of  a  technical  institution  in  California.  The 
house,  now  silent  and  dull,  would  grow,  as 
Olin  reflected  when  he  had  time  to  think  of 
it,  stiller  and  duller ;  yet  he  found  it  difficult 
to  cultivate  any  acute  emotion  at  the  prospect 
of  Dick's  leaving  him ;  it  did  not  seem  to 
matter  profoundly.    What  did  ? 

Barry  did  not  come  out  into  the  snow  to 
meet  his  master  that  March  night ;  for  Barry 
had  the  reserve  of  age  and  rheumatism.  But 
the  old  dog  was  waiting  in  the  vestibule.    Old 


<L 


TRIXY  49 

dogs,  like  old  men,  acquire  a  patience  unnat- 
ural to  the  species,  and  Barry,  probably  be- 
cause lie  had  suffered  some  physical  pain  and 
learned  how  to  bear  it,  had  a  pathetic  gentle- 
ness and  reluctance  to  give  trouble.  He  got 
up  stiffly,  and  tried  to  embrace  his  master,  but 
failing  in  the  power  to  do  so,  lapped  the  bare 
hand  from  which  Dr.  Steele  had  removed  the 
glove.  It  was  the  right  hand.  Barry  sniffed 
at  it  critically,  seemed  to  examine  it  from  some 
point  of  view  not  in  his  power  to  elucidate, 
and  turned  thoughtfully  away. 

Olin  went  up  at  once  to  his  mother's  room, 
kissed  her,  and  talked  a  little,  kindly,  as  he 
always  did. 

"  All  right,  Mummy  dear  ?  "  he  said,  as  he 
used  to  say  when  he  was  a  boy.  But  these 
filial  duties  were  soon  fulfilled,  and  he  went 
down  to  his  own  room. 

He  found  Barry  there  upon  the  tiger  skin 
before  the  fire.  The  grate  was  bright,  and  the 
light  in  the  room  was  soothing  and  soft.  Olin 
got  into  his  smoking-jacket  and  flung  himself 
upon  his  lounge.  After  a  while  he  rose  and 
turned  the  key  in  the  door. 

"  I  may  as  well  have  it  settled,"  he  thought, 


50  TR1XY 

"  once  for  all."  He  did  not  smoke  again,  but 
lay  staring  at  the  fire.  "  Inexplicable,  these 
phenomena,"  he  mused.  "  As  if  I  had  n't 
known  women  enough !  Why  one  specimen 
should  so  differentiate  —  It  's  inconvenient, 
look  at  it  anyhow." 

Olin  Steele  was  proceeding  to  apply  the  sci- 
entific method  to  the  state  of  mental  ferment 
in  which  he  unexpectedly  found  himself,  when 
he  was  annoyed  by  a  knock  upon  his  door. 

"Well  — what  is  it,  Tibbs?" 

"  It 's  Dr.  Bernard,  sir.  He  wants  to  know 
if  he  can  come  up." 

"  No,  he  can't  —  that  is  —  yes,  he  can,"  re- 
plied Olin.  "  I  suppose  he  must.  Show  him 
up,  Tibbs." 

After  all,  Olin  was  not  sorry  to  have  his 
reverie  interrupted.  It  was  beginning  to  be  a 
little  too  muscular  for  a  reverie,  and  his  second 
thought  welcomed  a  talk  with  his  assistant. 

There  was  a  time  in  the  plastic  period  when 
he  did  not  like  Bernard,  but  now  that  expert 
young  man,  by  the  imperious  process  of  strat- 
ification, had  become  a  necessary  part  of  Dr. 
Steele's  official  life.  Bernard,  too,  looked  older. 
Ten  years  had  fulfilled  the  threat  of  his  phy- 


TRIXY  51 

siognomy.  It  was  red  clay  then  ;  it  was  brick 
now.  His  face  was  coarser  than  Steele's,  as  it 
always  had  been,  and  —  as  it  always  had 
been  —  brutal.  He  had  the  eyes  of  an  in- 
quisitor, lowering  and  shifty.  To  an  ordinary 
citizen  his  was  a  face  to  be  dreaded.  It  was 
the  type  that  was  common  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury. It  was  broad,  flat,  and  surmounted  by  a 
rebellious,  fiery  mane.  But,  if  his  face  would 
inspire  dread,  his  hands  gave  the  layman  a 
nameless  apprehension.  These  were  stocky  as 
a  blacksmith's  and  yet  the  fingers  were  long 
and  sinuous.  The  backs  of  the  hands  were  all 
muscle,  and  the  palms  all  grip.  These  extraor- 
dinary hands  betrayed  enormous  power,  and 
suggested  an  ability  to  clutch  and  hold.  They 
looked  like  a  marvelously  developed  vise. 

Dr.  Steele  rose  to  meet  his  visitor.  They 
did  not  shake  hands.  As  they  stood  opposite 
to  each  other,  a  close  observer  who  had  known 
them  ten  years  ago  would  have  noticed  that 
a  curious,  indefinable  likeness  existed  between 
the  two.  Bernard  had  developed  into  what  he 
was  foreordained  to  be,  while  Steele  had  be- 
come fitted  to  a  mould  that  was  made  for 
another  soul. 


52  TRIXY 

"Well,  Bernard,  what 's  up  now?"  Steele 
asked,  with  the  genial  air  of  a  superior. 
"  Barry !  Keep  still,  sir.  Go  back  and  lie 
down." 

For  Barry  had  limped  up  and  stood  midway 
of  the  room,  growling.  The  dog  obeyed  his 
master,  but  sullenly,  and  returned  to  the  tiger 
skin.  From  this  vantage  he  scrutinized  the 
visitor  with  marked  disapproval. 

"  Frogs  !  "  said  Bernard  shortly.  "  Let 's 
have  a  cigar." 

"  Anybody  else  would  have  waited  until  it 
was  offered  to  him,"  thought  Steele  as  he  prof- 
fered the  Havana.  Bernard  accepted  it  with- 
out remark.  After  a  few  luxurious  puffs  he 
observed : 

"  We  're  short  of  them  again.  A  student 
must  have  hooked  a  lot." 

"I  have  my  doubts  about  this  private  ex- 
perimentation," said  Steele. 

"  Yes,  it 's  awkward  to  run  out  so,"  ad- 
mitted the  instructor.  "  You  see  the  frog-man 
fails  to  appreciate  his  opportunity  to  serve 
science.  He  had  an  order  for  ten  thousand, 
you  remember,  from  the  medical  schools  of 
this  region.    He  writes  that  he  never  has  been 


TRIXY  53 

able  to  fill  it,  and  now  the  darn  things  are  all 
frozen  up.  What  are  the  boys  going  to  do  ? 
We  need  fifty  on  nerve  experiments  right 
away." 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Steele  wearily,  "  it 's  always 
something.  One  can  fall  back  on  guinea  pigs 
or  rabbits." 

He  made  a  visible  effort  to  change  the  sub- 
ject, but  Bernard  did  not  quickly  perceive 
this ;  he  did  so  after  a  while,  and  rose  to  go. 
With  his  hand  on  the  door  he  turned  his  ill- 
favored  smile : 

"  Say,  Professor,"  he  began,  showing  his 
teeth,  "  do  you  remember  that "  — 

"  Oh,  drop  that !  "  cried  Steele. 

The  young  men  parted  without  further  cere- 
mony, and  Olin  started  to  lock  his  door  again. 
But  Barry  stood  in  the  way.  The  dog  pushed 
out  and  stiffly  followed  the  departing  guest. 
Suddenly  Barry's  growl  grew  into  a  roar.  Ber- 
nard raised  his  powerful  hand. 

"  Be  still,  both  of  you  !  "  cried  Steele,  greatly 
annoyed.  "  Barry,  that 's  my  guest ;  Bernard, 
that 's  my  dog." 

"  Your  dog  !  "  repeated  Bernard,  as  Barry 
slunk  away. 


54  TRIXY 

Steele  locked  his  door  again,  —  this  time  in 
o-ood  earnest.  The  interruption  had  disturbed 
him.  He  felt  as  if  he  could  have  locked  out 
his  life;  but  it  came  in  through  the  barred 
door  as  apparitions  are  said  to  come  in  haunted 
homes.  He  flung  his  hands  behind  him,  fin- 
gers shut  together,  and  paced  the  room.  Ques- 
tions, like  arrows,  each  sharper  than  the  last, 
shot  him  through. 

How  came  he  where  he  was  ?  How  came  he 
what  he  was  ?  Is  the  fate  of  the  soul  a  matter 
of  choice?  If  so,  what  dark  election  had  he 
made  of  his  ?  For  ten  years  he  had  carved  the 
living  animal  in  the  interests  of  physiology; 
he  was  accustomed  to  say  to  ladies  and  clergy- 
men that  he  pursued  scientific  research  for  the 
sake  of  suffering  humanity.  The  tissue,  the 
muscle,  the  nerve,  the  vital  spark,  tortured  to 
a  flicker,  and  resuscitated  to  a  spasm  —  these 
had  darkened  the  divine  in  him,  and  illumined 
the  material.  One  of  the  problems  that  had 
been  given  him  was  to  locate  the  brain-cells 
wherein  dwelt  the  sense  of  maternal  affection 
in  the  higher  animals,  and  to  see  whether 
the  mother's  instinct  could  be  destroyed  or 
not.    This  interesting  series  of  experiments  in 


TRIXY  55 

Berlin  led  the  young  doctor,  who,  as  we 
have  said,  was  not  without  imagination,  to 
extend  the  investigation,  and  he  spent  two 
months  in  trying  to  demonstrate  the  source  of 
love.  Half  a  hundred  living  brains  he  opened. 
Half  a  hundred  dogs  looked  up  into  his  face 
pathetically  questioning  what  darkened  their 
irritated  thoughts.  But  love  was  too  evasive. 
It  was  not  to  be  cut  out  by  a  scalpel  or 
grasped  by  pincers ;  and  Dr.  Steele  therefore 
read  a  paper,  learnedly  contending  that  love 
was  only  a  Greek  hypothesis,  a  psychic  dis- 
ease, the  dream  of  the  past,  the  illusion  of  the 
present,  and  did  not  exist.  For  this  invaluable 
contribution  to  science  he  received  his  degree 
of  Doctor  of  Philosophy. 

It  occurred  to  Steele,  as  if  he  had  origi- 
nated the  metaphor,  that  life  is  a  long  stair- 
way. Where  upon  it  did  he  stand  ?  And  which 
way  was  he  turned?  It  was  of  no  use  to  try 
to  bewilder  himself.  He  had  begun  at  the  top 
of  the  broad  white  marble  flight,  and  the  de- 
scent had  been  easy,  imperceptible  ;  and  as  he 
descended,  the  stone  changed  from  carrara  to 
sienna.  Was  the  bottom  still  below,  or  had  he 
reached  it? 


56  TRIXY 

Abruptly  he  stopped  pacing  the  room,  and 
dropped  into  the  easy-chair.  His  fingers,  where 
he  had  clenched  them,  were  purple  from  the 
knuckles  to  the  tips.  The  circulation  returned 
slowly ;  with  it  flowed  a  series  o£  reminiscences. 
He  could  no  more  repel  them  than  he  could 
stop  at  will  the  current  in  his  aorta. 

He  had  witnessed  many  sad  sights  in  the 
course  of  his  professional  life,  but  the  saddest 
sight  he  had  ever  seen  was  the  expression  of 
the  dogs  as  they  were  brought  to  the  labora- 
tory from  the  cellar  for  sacrifice. 

One  of  these  stood  out  apart  from  the  rest. 
Dr.  Steele  was  working  out  the  last  of  a  series 
of  experiments  performed  by  him  in  Vienna ; 
this  was  the  brilliant  achievement  that  had 
given  him  his  professorship.  The  experiments 
concerned  themselves  with  the  ligation  of  coro- 
nary arteries.  The  series  was  made  on  twenty- 
eight  dogs.  This  one,  whose  ghost  pursued  him 
now,  was  a  beautif  id  greyhound.  He  had  given 
it  a  little  morphia.  He  had  carved  about  its 
heart  for  one  hundred  minutes. 

He  thought  of  this  without  self-accusation. 
It  was  scarcely  in  justification  of  the  deed 
that  he  said,  half   aloud,  "  But  my  results 


TKIXY  57 

were  opposed  to  the  conclusions  of  Goltz  and 
Magendie  —  and  here  I  am." 

His  thoughts  reverted  swiftly  to  that  essay 
of  his  on  the  seat  of  the  affections.  His  mind 
was  vibrant  and  clear ;  it  swung  like  a  pen- 
dulum between  the  laboratory  and  love. 

"  I  have  demonstrated,"  he  thought  coldly, 
"  that  there  is  no  such  thing.  If  I  am  going 
on  like  this,  I  might  as  well  surrender  my 
Ph.  D." 

Now,  abruptly,  the  red  scenery  of  the  sci- 
entific shambles  shifted  before  him.  In  its 
stead  a  gentle  stage  gave  up  a  woman's 
figure  —  stirring  as  he  looked.  She  moved  in 
a  glimmering,  yellow  light.  Her  distinction  of 
form  and  manner,  her  filmy  black  robe,  her 
delicately  mocking  smile,  blurred  before  him 
and  blended  with  a  setting;  of  snow  and  blue 
twilight.  Against  this  she  stood,  fair  and  in- 
dignant as  a  priestess  disturbed  at  some  altar 
whose  worship  was  inexplicable  to  himself  — 
her  cheeks  aflame,  her  lifted  head  expressing 
against  her  dark  fur  the  turn  of  her  throat, 
her  whole  beautiful  being  on  fire  with  a  divine 
self-oblivion,  —  she,  pity  personified,  mercy 
made  magic. 


58  TRIXY 

Oh,  well,  —  admit  it !  —  magic. 

"  The  world  is  compact  of  illusions,"  thought 
Olin  Steele.  "  Life  is  a  hallucination.  And  so 
is  love.  I  am  at  present  confused  by  a  lantern 
slide.    Will  it  dissolve  or  hold  ?  " 

But  now  his  thoughts  passed  through  the 
haze,  and  he  began  to  analyze  his  sensations 
just  as  he  would  differentiate  lines  in  a  spec- 
troscope. For  an  element  as  new,  as  startling 
as  radium  had  suddenly  entered  his  life.  Ig- 
nore it  he  could  not ;  welcome  it  he  did  not. 

What  was  he  that  he  should  absorb  this  won- 
drous thing  ?  At  one  moment  coldly  critical 
of  himself,  at  the  next  maddened  by  his  con- 
sciousness of  her,  he  paced  the  room  blindly. 
He  had  known  many  women,  as  he  said  :  the 
frivolous,  the  weak,  the  severe,  the  patrician, 
the  subject.  Beyond  the  moment  few  of  these 
had  touched  him ;  none  had  inspired.  He 
had  always  been  sufficient  to  himself,  and 
he  had  a  certain  pride  in  the  fact  that  kept 
him  apart  from  experiences  which  deflect  a 
man  from  his  capacity  for  the  noblest  feeling. 

On  a  little  hanging  shelf  across  the  room 
were  a  few  books  that  he  had  collected  when 
he   was  a  boy  —  Byron,  Moore,  and   Shake- 


TRIXY  59 

speare,  and  the  modern  classics.  It  was  years 
since  he  had  handled  any  of  them.  Moved 
by  some  impulse  that  he  did  not  understand, 
and  but  half  respected,  he  went  over  to  the 
bookcase,  and  with  an  embarrassed  air  took 
down  the  third  volume  of  the  dark  blue  set 
of  Tennyson  that  his  mother  had  given  him 
in  his  sophomore  year. 

"  Seems  to  me  they  've  said  a  good  deal 
on  the  subject  —  these  makers  of  verse,"  he 
thought.  But  he  could  not  have  told  what  or 
where. 

Quite  by  accident  he  opened  the  book  at 
the  prelude  to  "  In  Memoriam,"  and  per- 
plexedly read  aloud  : 

"Strong  Son  of  God,  immortal  Love, 

Whom  we,  that  have  not  seen  thy  face, 
By  faith,  and  faith  alone,  emhrace, 
Believing  where  we  cannot  prove." 

He  closed  the  book,  and  turned  away  with 
a  gesture  such  as  a  man  makes  when  he 
stands  midway  between  incredulity  and  con- 
viction. 

"  It  strikes  me,"  he  thought,  "  that  I  am 
reversing  the  process.  I  am  in  danger  of 
proving    what    I    do    not    believe."    With    a 


60  TRIXY 

sudden  change  of  manner,  he  repeated  sol- 
emnly : 

"'Strong  Son  of  God  ! '  —  Why,  that's 
what  Mother  used  to  sing  ! 

"Immortal  love,"  he  reiterated.  All  the 
militant  forces  of  his  training  contended  with 
the  phrase.  He  did  not  believe  in  immortality. 
He  did  not  believe  in  love. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  was  the  girl. 

He  had  not  known  her  a  day,  but  she  had 
invaded  his  nature.  He  had  not  exchanged 
two  hundred  words  with  her,  but  she  had 
undermined  his  creed.  He  saw  her  —  he  saw 
her  and  could  not  help  it.  He  was  enchanted 
by  her ;  he  knew  it ;  and  the  knowledge 
wrought  in  him  a  bitter  contempt  for  his 
own  weakness.    But  what  could  he  do? 

He  had  been  told  in  romance  and  song  — 
in  the  clays  when  they  told  him  anything  at 
all  —  of  a  mysterious  and  beautiful  force.  It 
seized  the  soul  and  body  ;  it  bewildered  the 
reason  ;  it  transformed  the  character  ;  it  trans- 
figured life  ;  it  irradiated  death  ;  it  promised 
immortality.  This  miracle  was  love  at  the  first 
sight  of  the  beloved. 

At  this,  as  at  other  miracles,  he  had  sneered 


TRIXY  61 

for  years.  Now  what  was  he  doing-  ?  Wor- 
shiping ?  He  ?  His  stern  lips  yielded,  his 
hands  relaxed,  his  face  fell  upon  them. 

"  I  shall  love  her,"  he  said.  "  I  shall  love 
her ! " 

Then  he  lifted  his  head,  and  his  fingers 
locked  again.  "  She  is  a  woman.  I  am  a  man. 
Since  I  determine,  she  shall  conform." 

More  gently  then,  he  spoke  aloud  : 

"  I  will  win  her  —  anyhow.  What  the  price 
is,  who  can  say  ?  " 

It  occurred  to  him  suddenly  that  he  was 
thinking  in  a  quotation  —  he  who  had  read 
no  poetry  for  a  dozen  years.  He  could  not 
even  have  told  who  said  it.  How  had  he  hap- 
pened to  slip  into  clouds  and  ether  ?  As  well 
be  a  woman  —  a  Diana  —  and  blunder  head- 
long; into  fate. 

"  I  will  win  her,"  he  repeated,  "  so  help  me 
God." 

How  was  a  physiologist  who  in  one  day  had 
begun  with  poetry,  fallen  upon  love,  and  ended 
with  God,  to  reckon  with  himself? 

The  young  professor  perceived  that  the 
time  would  come  when  he  must  do  so.  But 
he  did  not  care. 


CHAPTER  IV 

"  Here,  you  gossoon,  how  the  devil  can  I 
groom  that  horse  with  Trixy  on  her  back  ?  " 

Matthew  stepped  into  the  box-stall,  while 
Dan  held  up  his  finger  with  that  admonitory 
gesture  which  is  better  obeyed  than  a  whip 
by  an  intelligent  dog.  But  the  chestnut  mare 
turned  her  head,  neighing  gently  at  a  little 
white  poodle  who  sat  like  a  statuette  upon 
her  shoulders. 

"  They  like  each  other,"  said  Dan.  "  Trixy 's 
saying  good-by.    We  're  going  right  away." 

"  Are  ye  out  o'  quirintine  ? "  asked  Mat- 
thew. 

"  There  wan't  no  quirintine,"  replied  Dan. 
"  Them  city  doctors  don't  know  much. 
Cady's  Molly,  —  she  's  all  right.  'T  wan't  no 
kind  of  dipfever,  nohow.  Come  along, 
Trixy." 

Trixy  confidingly  walked  the  length  of  the 
chestnut  mare's  spinal  column,  and  flew  like 
an  acrobat  to  Dan's  crooked  shoulder. 


TRIXY  63 

"  I  suppose,"  Dan  added,  casting  a  regret- 
ful look  around  the  warm,  exquisitely  clean 
stable,  "  we  must  go  up  and  see  Her.  She 's 
sent  fur  us." 

"  You  're  in  luck,  gossoon,"  said  Matthew 
gravely  ;  "  there  's  them  I  know  would  give 
their  Derby  hats  to  say  as  much,  or  do  it, 
either." 

"  They  ain't  crooked,  be  they  ?  "  asked  Dan 
thoughtfully. 

"  No,"  said  Matthew  promptly.  "  They  're 
straight  —  and  pretty  tall,  as  a  general  thing. 
There  's  quite  a  number  of  'em." 

"I  reckon  that 's  so,"  retorted  Dan  proudly. 

The  boy  and  the  poodle  made  their  way 
quietly  up  the  padded  stairs  to  the  library 
(Trixy  was  as  silent  as  Dan)  where  Miriam  and 
her  aunt,  having  never  been  able  to  agree 
upon  the  same  morning  paper,  sat  reading  two 
rival  sheets. 

Dan  stood,  cap  in  hand.  His  eyes  sought 
Miss  Lauriat's  with  more  of  the  absolute  canine 
than  looked  from  Trixy's  when  she  glanced  at 
him.  For  Trixy  was  something  of  an  elf,  and 
loved  moodily,  and  at  times,  the  lad  thought, 
mockingly.    She   had  feminine  caprices,  and 


64  TRIXY 

little  pets  and  pouts.  Dan  was  not  always  sure 
of  her ;  hence  he  adored  her. 

For  instance,  at  this  moment  Trixy  hesitated 
a  little  whether  to  salute  her  hostess,  then 
unexpectedly  walked  over  to  Mrs.  Percy  B. 
Jeffries,  and  solemnly  sat  up  before  her. 

"  Shake  hands  like  a  lady,"  said  Dan,  in  an 
undertone. 

"  You  mean  paws,"  corrected  Aunt  Cornelia. 

"No,  I  don't,  marm,"  persisted  Dan. 
"  Trixy  don't  know  she  's  got  paws." 

"  Now  that,"  complained  Mrs.  Jeffries,  "  is 
just  an  illustration  of  what  I  was  saying, 
Miriam,  when  the  boy  came  in.  You  can't 
make  the  higher  races  out  of  the  lower  races. 
I  maintain  that  the  Creator  knew  what  He 
was  about.  When  He  made  paws,  He  did  n't 
mean  hands." 

"  Oh,  Auntie,  don't  be  so  literal ! "  said 
Miriam,  laughing.  "  Shake  hands  with  Trixy, 
and  defer  the  argument." 

"  But  I  can't  see,"  urged  Mrs.  Jeffries,  "  how 
such  a  high  class  of  physicians  —  men  of  posi- 
tion, I  'm  sure,  Miriam  —  Galen  men,  too  — 
how  they  could  make  a  mistake.  I  always 
thought " — 


TRIXY  65 

"  Don't  think,  Auntie  dear.  I  never  do. 
Cady's  Molly  had  a  simple  case  of  pharyn- 
gitis." 

"  That  sounds  bad  enough  !  "  Mrs.  Jeffries 
dropped  the  dog's  paw  quickly.  "  I  am  sure 
I  should  have  quarantined  it.  How  do  you 
know  we  have  n't  got  it  —  all  of  us?" 

Miriam's  eyes  laughed. 

"  Oh,  Auntie  dear  !  Don't  you  see  ?  A  sore 
throat  unadorned  is  adorned  the  most." 

The  crippled  boy  stood  looking  from  one 
lady  to  the  other ;  his  silent  face  made  the 
comments  that  ignorance  and  obscurity  pass 
upon  intelligence  and  position  —  that  steady, 
ominous  undertone  of  criticism  to  which  we 
seldom  pay  attention. 

"  Noav,  Dan,"  said  Miriam,  turning  brightly 
to  the  boy,  "  we  've  enjoyed  your  visit  very 
much.  You  've  made  no  sort  of  trouble.  And 
everybody  in  the  house  loves  Trixy.  Mr.  Sur- 
bridge  thinks  she  is  the  most  remarkable  dog 
he  ever  knew.  When  do  you  give  your  next 
entertainment  —  I  mean  your  next  important 
entertainment  ?  " 

"Four  weeks  come  next  Chuesday"  —  Dan 
blushed    with    gratification  —  "at   half -past 


66  TRIXY 

seven  sharp.    No  postpayment  on  account  of 
no  weather." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  see.    And  where  ?  " 

"  At  the  Grand  Mooses'  Retreat,  Miss  Lau- 
rie."   Dan  raised  his  bent  shoulders. 

"In  Heaven's  name,  who  are  the  Grand 
Gooses  ?  "  demanded  Mrs.  Jeffries,  pushing 
Trixy  off  her  lap.  Trixy,  with  a  hurt  expres- 
sion, ran  to  Miriam,  who  cuddled  her  heartily. 

"  I  said  Mooses,"  replied  Dan  with  dignity. 

"Mooses,  then,"  said  Aunt  Cornelia, 
"though  I  can't  see  what  possible  difference 
it  can  make." 

"  Mebbe  you  would  if  you  was  us,  marm," 
replied  Dan,  without  smiling. 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  I  should,"  admitted  Aunt 
Cornelia  more  kindly. 

"Hain't  you  never  heard  of  the  Grand 
Mooses?"  asked  Dan  in  a  tone  of  gentle  pat- 
ronage,  not  unmixed  with  pity.  "  That  's  our 
Lodge.  I  'm  a  charter  member.  None  of  us 
don't  drink.  But  they  pay  tickets  to  see  Trixy. 
It  costs  ten  cents  to  get  in." 

"  Who  gets  the  money?"  asked  Aunt  Cor- 
nelia severely. 

"  Why,  I  do,"  said  Dan  slowly.    "  You  see 


TRIXY  67 

I  'm  crooked  —  and  lame  —  and  I  ain't  very 
strong.  I  can't  do  a  great  many  things  for  a 
living.  That 's  the  way  me  and  Trixy  make 
ours." 

"  I  '11  take  ten  tickets,"  said  Miss  Lauriat 
quickly. 

"  I  '11  take  five  myself,"  observed  Mrs.  Jef- 
fries. 

"  I  'd  rather  shove  ye  in  dead-heads,"  said 
Dan  pathetically,  "  an'  have  ye  come." 

"  No,"  said  Miriam,  "  we  '11  take  the  tick- 
ets, and  come  too.  We  '11  bring  a  party, 
Dan." 

"  You  're  in  for  it  now,  Miriam,"  groaned 
her  Aunt  Cornelia,  when  the  boy  and  the  dog 
had  left  the  library. 

"  I  hope  so,  Auntie  dear,"  replied  Miriam, 
with  that  exasperating  cheerfulness  which  is 
one  of  the  fine  arts  of  domestic  life. 

"  I  suppose  you  know  this  is  the  morn- 
ing for  your  pastel  lesson  ?  "  continued  Mrs. 
Jeffries  plaintively.  "  Now  that,  my  dear,  is 
quite  clearly  a  proper  occupation  for  a  young 
lady  —  sheltered  and  aesthetic.  Your  mother 
would  have  felt  just  as  I  do  about  all  this 
philanthropic  fad." 


68  TRIXY 

"  My  father  would  n't !  "  flashed  Miriam. 

"  You  never  appreciated  your  mother,"  re- 
torted Mrs.  Jeffries. 

Miriam  started  to  return  irreverently : 
"  She  never  gave  me  a  chance ;  "  for  her 
mother  had  died  when  the  child  was  three 
years  old.  In  fact,  she  said  no  such  thing. 
Yet  she  was  so  constructed  that  she  felt  as  if 
she  had,  and  repented  accordingly. 

She  went  out  of  the  room  dry-eyed,  for  she 
was  not  a  crying  woman  ;  but  once  alone,  the 
tears  smarted  to  her  lashes.  She  and  Aunt 
Cornelia  had  never  "  got  on  "  together.  Mir- 
iam, who  knew  that  this  was  partly  her  fault, 
sometimes  blamed  herself  for  it,  dispropor- 
tionately. She  dreaded  becoming  of  those 
people  who  are  happy  with  their  inferiors,  but 
not  with  their  relatives. 

She  was  about  going  back  with  a  sweet 
magnanimity  quite  natural  to  her,  to  say, 
"  Forgive  me,  Auntie,"  when  a  maltese  kit- 
ten that  had  been  hiding  somewhere  from 
Trixy  scudded  across  the  hall,  and  into  the 
library  —  immediately  running  back,  however, 
to  Miriam,  who  received  it  with  a  dutiful  air, 
plainly  lacking  in  enthusiasm. 


TRIXY  69 

"  You  don't  love  cats.  I  don't  see  why  you 
don't  get  a  dog,  Miriam,"  said  Mrs.  Jeffries, 
folding  her  newspaper  with  a  neat  and  irritat- 
ing motion.  The  penitent  words  fainted  on 
Miriam's  lips.  Her  face  stiffened  instantly,  and 
became  cast  into  an  expression  that  no  one  in 
the  world,  least  of  all  her  mother's  sister, 
knew  her  well  enough  to  have  understood. 
She  dropped  the  kitten  from  her  arm,  and 
turned  away  without  a  word. 

The  Grand  Mooses'  Retreat  was  opened 
and  lighted.  The  kerosene  lamps  were  smok- 
ing placidly.  The  men  of  the  audience  were 
not,  and  seemed  to  miss  their  accustomed 
privilege  ;  but  the  word  had  gone  around  that 
swells  were  coming  —  and  real  ladies  —  to 
Dan's  show. 

Most  of  the  spectators  were  Miss  Lauriat's 
friends.  These  were  of  two  kinds  :  the  party 
she  brought  with  her,  and  the  people  to  whom 
she  brought  it.  Her  tenants  were  there  in 
large  numbers  ;  Cady's  Molly,  in  a  red  dress, 
pink  hair-ribbon,  and  purple  tam-o'-shanter, 
being  conspicuous  among  them. 

Molly  had  become  somewhat  of  a  heroine 


70  TRIXY 

since  the  incident  of  the  quarantine,  and  Dan, 
who  cherished  a  camaraderie  for  her,  had 
provided  her  with  a  prominent  place.  A 
big,  boisterous  mason,  who  was  now  known 
to  history  by  the  ambiguous  title  of  Cady's 
Molly's  father,  sat  beside  her. 

The  front  seats  were  reserved  for  Miss 
Lauriat  and  her  invited  guests.  Among  them 
Dan  claimed  a  personal  acquaintance  only 
with  Mrs.  Jeffries,  Mr.  Surbridge,  Matthew, 
and  Maggie.  The  lad  was  not  on  speaking 
terms  with  Professor  Steele,  who  came  in 
late,  and  sat  by  the  door,  but  Dan  identified 
him  at  once  as  the  "dipfever"  doctor.  At 
sight  of  Dr.  Steele,  Cady's  Molly's  father 
swelled  proudly,  and  remarked  audibly  to 
Molly : 

"  We  fired  him,  Molly  —  did  n't  we  ?  " 

But  the  doctor,  quite  unconscious  of  his 
personal  unpopularity,  changed  his  seat  for 
one  where  he  could  watch  Miss  Lauriat's  warm 
and  beautiful  profile. 

The  stage  was  small  and  murky.  It  con- 
tained a  table,  two  chairs,  a  clothes-horse  with 
a  narrow,  light  board  resting  upon  it,  and  a 
waste-paper  basket  without  a  bottom ;  several 


TRIXY  71 

rubber  balls,  a  squeak-chicken,  a  feather  dus- 
ter, and  a  little  costume. 

Dan  and  Trixy  appeared  quietly  upon  the 
platform.  The  boy  limped  slowly,  holding 
Trixy 's  right  paw  with  great  gallantry,  and 
both  bowed  to  the  audience  at  the  same  mo- 
ment, and  with  solemnity. 

The  crippled  lad  was  undersized  and  pale. 
He  could  not  have  been  over  sixteen,  and  he 
looked  less  or  more  according  to  the  light 
that  was  rude  to  his  drawn  features,  or  the 
shadow  that  was  kind  to  them.  Though  he  was 
not  strictly  a  hunch-back,  his  shoulders  were 
bent,  and  one  leg  was  so  much  shorter  than 
the  other  that  he  had  to  walk  with  a  crutch. 

His  manner  was  gentle,  and  so  was  his  face. 
He  had  that  refinement  which  suffering  only 
confers,  and  that  air  of  cheerfulness  and  good 
humor  which  sometimes  springs  from  a  des- 
perate lot  bravely  borne.  Dan  was  of  the  un- 
complaining type  that  would  have  made  him 
a  favorite  in  any  society.  At  the  applause 
which  greeted  his  appearance,  he  smiled  down 
at  his  goddess  on  the  front  settee.  Miss  Lau- 
riat  radiantly  smiled  back.  She  was  as  pleased 
as  he. 


72  TRIXY 

Trixy  was  a  French  poodle,  white  and  fine. 
More  strictly,  one  might  classify  her  as  a 
Spanish  poodle ;  but  she  was  of  the  variety 
well  known  in  France,  where  she  would  be 
called  a  lou  lou.  Although  Dan  had  found 
the  puppy  freezing  in  an  ash  barrel,  she  was 
of  high  descent.  Her  hair  was  tightly  curled ; 
her  nose  was  black.  Her  black  eyes  blazed 
from  her  white  face  with  a  startling  intelli- 
gence that,  though  other,  was  never  less,  and 
often  more  than  human.  She  was  sinuous, 
coquettish,  cuddling ;  then  defiant  and  digni- 
fied. She  was  born  to  be  loved ;  but  she  was 
born  to  be  admired.  She  could  never  be  long 
happy  off  the  stage.  Indeed,  she  would  have 
played  to  empty  benches  rather  than  not  to 
play  at  all.  Her  ears  lifted  at  the  applause 
which  greeted  her.  She  critically  measured 
her  audience  ;  then  she  curtsied  to  her  master, 
and,  still  standing  on  her  hind  feet,  awaited 
his  orders. 

Many  of  Trixy's  performances  were  ele- 
mentary ;  but  some  were  worthy  of  a  larger 
stage.  Trixy  was  better  educated  than  her 
master,  and  experienced  the  disadvantage  of 
the  more  alert  intelligence  leashed  into  a  sub- 


TRIXY  73 

ject  condition.  She  tripped  with  enthusiasm 
through  her  little  repertoire.  She  was  a  dead 
dog ;  she  rolled  over ;  she  said  her  prayers ; 
she  played  leap-frog ;  she  teetered  on  a  board 
across  the  clothes-horse  ;  she  was  blindfolded 
and  found  the  squeak-chicken  in  Mr.  Sur- 
bridge's  coat  pocket.  She  dove  through  the 
waste-paper  basket  like  a  ballet  dancer  through 
a  paper  hoop.  She  did  a  dozen  clever  things 
with  the  rubber  balls ;  she  turned  a  back 
somersault  on  her  master's  hand  ;  she  took  the 
feather  duster  in  her  arms,  walked  jauntily 
down  the  aisle,  and  deposited  it  in  Mrs.  Percy 
B.  Jeffries's  horrified  lap.  Perceiving  that 
lady's  discomfiture,  Trixy  proceeded  by  way 
of  consolation  to  dust  her  off. 

After  this  episode,  which  was  received  by 
the  audience  with  marked  applause,  Dan 
dressed  Trixy  up  in  a  little  white  tulle-covered 
dress,  with  a  shirt  waist  and  hat. 

"  Now,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  Dan, 
"  you  will  be  treated  to  the  only  performance 
of  the  kind  in  the  world.  This  alone  is  worth 
your  money.  Miss  Trixy  is  the  only  trained 
dog  in  the  United  States  who  can  sing  soprano 
to  a  gent's  tenor." 


74  TRIXY 

Trixy  stood  on  the  table  in  her  fluffy  dress, 
one  paw  lightly  resting  on  Dan's  shoulder. 
Her  eyes  sought  his  eagerly  for  orders,  but 
they  began  to  have  their  elfish  expression, 
and  Dan  felt  a  little  uneasy.  He  never  was 
sure  of  her  —  never,  and  he  hurried  the  per- 
formance along. 

The  lad  now  began  to  sing.  He  had  a 
sweet  voice,  untaught  and  immature,  and 
sang  not  without  real  effect,  something  in 
this  manner : 

In  kind  or  cruel  weather, 
We  have  traveled  on  together  ; 
She  and  I. 

Whate'er  the  skies  above  her, 
She  's  my  lady,  and  I  love  her. 
Who  knows  why  ? 

She  's  my  lady, 
And  I  '11  love  her 
Till  I  die. 

As  Dan  sang  this  ditty  to  a  pretty  tune, 
Trixy,  with  a  sentimental  manner,  lifted  up 
her  voice  and  joined  in  the  strain,  singing 
from  beginning  to  end.  There  was  a  curious 
concord  between  the  voices  of  the  boy  and 
the  dog.    It  was  that  of  love  rather  than  that 


TRIXY  75 

of  music ;  one  hardly  knew  whether  to  laugh 
or  to  cry. 

After  this  Dan  put  Trixy  through  a  little 
skirt  dance,  which  he  prefaced  in  the  follow- 
ing: manner : 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,  you've  all  heard 
of  Adeline  Patty.  It  costs  a  thousand  dollars 
to  see  her  dance.  None  of  us  have,  unless 
the  front  row.  But  Trixy,  she  '11  dance  any- 
wheres, any  time,  for  ten  cents  a  head.  You 
see  her  now,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  a  little  dog 
in  child's  clothes;  but  you  wouldn't  under- 
stand mebbe  as  well  as  I  do  —  that  really, 
Trixy  is  a  child  in  dog's  clothes.  She  will 
now  proceed  to  give  the  last  performance  of 
the  evening." 

When  the  little  dance  was  over  Dan  added 
an  impromptu  feature  of  the  entertainment. 

"  Trixy,"  he  said,  "  go  down  into  the  au- 
dience and  find  the  lady  you  love  the  best." 

Trixy  obeyed  with  alacrity,  but  the  elf  look 
had  come  into  her  eyes  again.  She  tripped 
down  the  aisle  on  her  hind  feet.  Mockingly 
she  paused  before  Cady's  Molly,  flinging  as 
she  did  so  a  roguish  glance  at  her  master. 
The  audience  had  grown  very  still.    Dan  did 


76  TRIXY 

not  interfere.  After  a  moment's  hesitation 
Trixy  turned  her  back  on  Molly,  walked  to 
Miss  Lauriat,  sprang  into  her  lap,  and  put 
both  paws  around  the  young  lady's  neck.  Tu- 
multuous applause  attested  the  popularity  of 
the  dog's  choice. 

Cries  came  from  different  parts  of  the 
room : 

"  Speech  !  Speech  !  The  Lady  !  The  Lady  ! " 

Mrs.  Percy  B.  Jeffries  bit  her  lips;  but 
Miss  Lauriat  graciously  responded.  It  was 
not  the  first  time  she  had  been  on  the  plat- 
form of  that  hall,  and  had  helped  the  people's 
entertainments.  They  all  loved  her,  and  she 
knew  it.  She  was  quite  at  home  with  them. 
With  the  little  dog  clinging  to  her  neck, 
white  against  her  black  dress,  Miriam  went 
up  and  stood  beside  the  crippled  lad.  In  that 
dull  place  she  was  a  radiant  being.  She  illu- 
mined the  dark  background  of  that  paltry 
stage  as  she  had  illumined  the  dark  lives 
which  found  their  best  —  perhaps  their  purest 
—  pleasures  in  amusements  such  as  this. 

For  a  moment  she  stood  there  smiling,  the 
little  creature  cuddling  in  her  neck  —  both 
silent.    The   face   of  the  dog    could    not    be 


TRIXY  77 

seen,  and  its  child's  dress  and  infantile  atti- 
tude gave  a  strange  impression,  as  if  some 
new  Madonna,  gently  owning  her  kinship  to 
the  subject  races,  had  arisen  to  protect  them. 

At  first,  Miriam  thought  she  would  have 
said  a  few  words,  but  the  cold  eyes  of  Olin 
Steele  were  fixed  upon  her.  Something  in 
their  expression  deterred  her ;  she  could  not 
have  said  why.  She  felt  a  little  chilled,  as 
if  he  did  not  approve  of  her  position.  She 
bowed,  and  gave  the  dog  back  to  Dan. 

But  the  audience,  rinding  that  there  was  to 
be  no  speech  from  Miss  Lauriat,  and  unwill- 
ing to  be  cheated  out  of  their  rights  and 
privileges  in  the  lady,  thronged  towards  the 
platform. 

Philip  Surbridge,  however,  was  there  first. 
His  face  was  warm  with  sympathy.  The  finer 
meaning  of  that  evening's  scene  appealed  to 
every  fibre  in  his  being.  He  felt  it  all  with 
her.  He  felt  it  all  for  her.  He  grasped  her 
hand  with  the  enthusiasm  of  a  boy  and  the 
reverence  of  a  man. 

"  You  have  done  a  beautiful  thing,"  he 
said,  "  and  I  honor  you  for  it !  " 

He  stood  beside  her  for  a  moment,  in  a  pro- 


78  TRIXY 

tecting  attitude,  like  a  brother's,  between  her 
and  the  people  who  were  hurrying  up  the  steps. 

"  Thank  you,  Phil,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 
"  But  I  Ve  got  to  shake  hands  with  them.  It 
would  break  their  hearts  if  I  didn't.  Speak 
to  Dan,  please,  and  then  we  '11  go." 

"  Dan,"  said  Surbridge,  "  if  ever  you  and 
Trixy  want  a  friend,  count  on  me." 

He  held  out  his  hand  heartily,  first  to  Dan, 
and  then  to  the  pretty  dog.  Then  Dan  put 
on  Trixy's  blue  coat  (it  was  embroidered  with 
her  name)  lest  she  should  take  cold  after  the 
excitement  of  the  performance,  and  led  the 
little  actress  away. 

Professor  Steele  did  not  come  up  with  the 
remainder  of  Miss  Lauriat's  party.  He  stood 
for  a  moment  watching  her,  while  fifty  people 
grasped  her  delicate  hand.  Cady's  Molly's 
father  was  one  of  them.  The  scene  was  for- 
eign to  Olin's  experience.  He  had  experi- 
mented upon  the  poor ;  he  had  meant  to  be 
kind  to  them  ;  sometimes  he  had  cured  them  ; 
but  he  had  not  been  their  friend.  He  was  by 
no  means  sure  that  he  wanted  to  be,  or 
wanted  her  to  be.  He  envied  the  look  of  gen- 
uine appreciation  on  Surbridge's  face  —  that 


TRIXY  79 

spontaneous  sympathy  with  this  extraordinary 
situation.  Deterred  by  a  discomfort  in  him- 
self which  he  did  not  understand,  the  doctor 
took  his  hat  and  left  the  hall. 

As  he  went  downstairs,  he  heard  some  young 
people  moving  out  behind  him,  humming : 

She  's  my  lady,  and  I  love  her. 
Who  knows  why  ? 

He  waited  outside,  pacing  up  and  down 
Blind  Alley,  till  the  rest  of  the  party  should 
come  out.  Most  of  Miriam's  guests  returned 
as  they  had  come,  by  carriage  or  by  trolley. 
But  a  few  preferred  to  walk,  and  among  these, 
Steele,  who  had  rather  obviously  offered  his 
escort  to  Mrs.  Jeffries,  noticed  Miss  Lauriat 
and  her  lawyer. 

Surbridge  and  Miriam  walked  on  for  a  few 
moments  without  talking.  Then  Miriam  said 
carelessly : 

"It  was  nice  of  Dr.  Steele  to  look  after 
Auntie.    She  appreciates  that  kind  of  thing." 

"  Perhaps  I  ought  to  have  "  —  Philip  spoke 
in  a  nettled  tone. 

"  She  would  have  preferred  you,  of  course," 
interrupted  Miriam.  "  She  reveres  Dr.  Steele, 
but  she  loves  you." 


80  TRIXY 

"  Reveres  Olin  Steele  ?  " 

"That  was  her  word,"  said  Miriam,  with 
mischief  in  her  eyes. 

"  But  I  thought  you  wanted  to  walk  home," 
protested  Surbridge. 

"  I  did,"  returned  Miriam  quietly.  "  It  was 
so  stuffy  in  there.    I  wanted  the  air." 

"  Well,  then  !  "  cried  Surbridge. 

"  Don't  be  cross,  Phil !  "  said  Miriam. 

Philip  received  this  little  sisterly  speech  as 
a  matter  of  course.  He  and  Miriam  had  been 
on  quite  comfortable  terms  since  they  went  to 
dancing  school  together.  He  smothered  his 
flitting  pique,  and  began  to  talk  about  Dan 
and  Trixy.  "  I  'd  rather  have  seen  that  than 
grand  opera,"  he  said  heartily. 

"  You  do  care,  don't  you  ?  "  said  Miriam. 
"  So  few  people  do." 

"  He  's  a  poor  little  chap,"  continued  Philip, 
"and  he's  got  a  remarkable  dog.  And  as 
for  you  "  —    He  broke  off. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Miriam  contentedly. 
"  We  are  apt  to  like  the  same  things.  How 's 
your  practice,  Phil  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  've  just  been  retained  by  the  News- 
boys' Association." 


TRIXY  81 

"  You  take  too  many  charity  cases.  You 
are  quixotic  and  —  and  —  splendid,  Phil. 
You  '11  never  get  rich  that  way." 

"  I  never  expect  to  get  rich."  The  young 
lawyer  spoke  quickly,  and  a  little  defiantly. 

"  Oh,  well,  that 's  quite  immaterial,"  re- 
turned Miriam,  with  the  indifference  to  an 
income  felt  by  a  girl  who  had  never  expe- 
rienced the  want  of  one.  "  Nobody  likes  you 
the  less  for  it." 

"You  are  very  good  to  say  so,"  replied 
Surbridge ;  he  took  the  tone  of  a  man  who 
does  not  propose  to  dip  below  the  surface. 
"  By  the  way,  I  wonder  why  Steele  did  n't 
speak  to  you  to-night  ?  " 

"  I  did  n't  feel  like  it,  and  I  presume  he 
did  n't,"  answered  Miriam.  "  I  think  he  dis- 
approved of  what  I  did." 

"  What  business  is  it  of  his  ?  "  flashed  Sur- 
bridge. 

"Not  any,"  returned  Miriam  very  slowly. 
"  That  is  —  well,  no  —  not  any.  All  the  same, 
he  's  the  kind  of  man  who  makes  you  feel  as 
if  he  thought  it  loere  his  business." 

"  That  doesn't  lessen  the  cheek,"  persisted 
Philip. 


82  TRIXY 

"  He 's  always  very  courteous,"  observed 
Miriam  coldly.  "  He  is  a  perfect  gentleman. 
I  'm  sure  you  '11  admit  that  he  's  eminent  in  his 
profession.  Auntie  has  taken  a  fancy  to  him." 

"  And  you  ?  "  asked  Surbridge. 

In  the  darkness  he  could  see  her  lift  her 
chin  with  a  little  haughty  motion  that  she 
rarely  made. 

"  I  have  seen  something  of  him,"  she  re- 
plied evasively.  "  Auntie  invites  him  a  good 
deal.  He  is  president  of  one  of  those  ani- 
mal things  that  she 's  director  of.  It 's  the 
S.  P.  D.  &  C.  T.  &  E." 

"  What  in  the  name  of  —  mercy  —  is  the 
S.  P.  D.  &C.  T.  &E.?" 

"  The  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Dock- 
ing and  Cropping  Tails  and  Ears,"  said  Miriam 
demurely. 

"  Olin  Steele  president  of  a  society  for  — 
Oh,  Lord  !  Oh,  Lord  ! "  Surbridge  groaned 
with  half -choked  laughter. 

"  I  cannot  imagine  why  you  find  it  so 
funny,"  answered  Miriam  severely. 

Philip  sobered  instantly.  "  Shall  I  beg  your 
pardon  ?  " 

"  Not  for   the  world  !  "  cried  Miriam,  re- 


TRIXY  83 

gaining  her  good  nature.  "  I  suppose  they  '11 
be  waiting  for  us,"  she  added  in  a  different 
tone.  Surbridge  made  no  reply,  but  he  quick- 
ened his  pace. 

When  they  came  into  the  brightly  lighted, 
laughing  house  most  of  Miriam's  guests  had 
preceded  them.  Dr.  Steele,  without  manifest 
intrusion,  seemed  subtly  to  claim  her,  and 
Philip  quickly  gave  way  to  an  indefinable 
something  —  whether  an  acquaintance  or  a 
friendship  he  could  not  determine  —  which 
he  felt  existed  between  the  two. 

They  did  not  seem  to  talk  much  ;  which  to 
the  lawyer's  mind  was  the  gravest  symptom. 
Miriam  had  an  absorbed  and  sweet  expres- 
sion ;  this  deepened  slowly  into  an  exhilarated 
beauty.  As  for  the  man's  face,  Surbridge  could 
not  watch  it,  and  turned  away. 

"  Tell  me  what  you  are  thinking,"  demanded 
Olin  Steele,  in  the  commanding  tone  which  it 
was  his  private  belief  that  women  liked ;  for 
her  happy  face  had  suddenly  fallen. 

"  I  am  repenting,"  replied  Miss  Lauriat, 
without  a  smile. 

"  Be  all  my  sins  remembered  !  "  exclaimed 
the  doctor  in  a  deep  voice.    Miriam  glanced 


84  TRIXY 

up  gravely.  Half  attracted,  half  repelled,  she 
seemed  to  stir  and  sway  upon  her  steady  feet. 

"I  am  thinking,"  she  sighed,  "that  I  for- 
got to  invite  Dan  and  Trixy  to  come  and  get 
some  ice  cream." 

But  Dan  and  Trixy  were  blessedly  beyond 
the  need  of  ice  cream,  viewed  either  as  a  con- 
scious loss  or  as  a  possible  possession.  In  the 
lad's  closet  bedroom,  across  the  entry  from 
Cady's  Molly's  father's,  the  two  were  drowned 
in  the  blissful  sleep  of  the  tired  and  success- 
ful wage-earner.  They  had  reached  the  deeps 
below  the  waves.  Memory  and  forecast  had 
passed  them  by  ;  trouble  was  not,  nor  hunger, 
nor  cold ;  homelessness  and  orphanage,  de- 
formity and  helplessness,  had  overlooked  these 
waifs  of  fortune.  Trixy  dreamed  of  her  audi- 
ence ;  but  Dan  did  not  dream  at  all.  He  was 
too  tired.  Trixy  lay  on  the  foot  of  his  cot, 
covered  with  a  ragged  coat  of  her  master's  — 
for  the  little  actress  was  of  a  delicate  race. 
Twenty  times  a  night  Dan's  thin  hand  stole 
down  and  covered  Trixy  up.  Dan  knew  that 
he  loved  Trixy  better  than  she  loved  him,  but 
he  loved  none  the  less  for  that. 


TRIXY  85 

Miriam  Lauriat  was  not  a  new  woman.  She 
had  no  career,  and  she  had  never  wanted  one. 
By  birth  and  training  she  inclined  to  accept 
the  existing,  and  clung  to  the  traditions  of  her 
class.  But  with  these  she  often  found  her 
nature  contending.  On  the  map  of  her  being 
were  large,  unexplored  spaces,  arctic  and  tor- 
rid. She  did  not  know  whether  she  were  more 
afraid  of  or  more  unable  to  traverse  these. 

Most  of  the  affections  of  life  had  reached 
her  only  by  induction.  She  had  felt  deeply, 
but  not  often,  and  her  tenderness  had  been 
touched  through  her  sympathies.  She  had 
loved  but  two  beings  :  her  father,  and  one 
other. 

She  had  experienced  society.  But  now  she 
remained  on  the  bank,  and  the  rapids  flowed 
by  her.  The  torrent  had  really  never  inter- 
ested her,  and  she  turned  from  it  to  philan- 
thropy as  women  of  noble  and  unoccupied 
hearts  are  apt  to  do. 

Miriam  had  highly  developed  in  herself  the 
passion  for  humanity.  The  wants,  the  woes, 
the  joys  of  denied  and  overlooked  people,  had 
become  the  important  events  in  her  life.  The 
human  element,  which  demanded  everything 


86  TRIXY 

and  could  give  nothing,  absorbed  her  leisure 
vitality.  She  had  given  much  happiness  and 
had  received  some.  Incidentally  she  was  be- 
loved by  the  objects  of  her  bounty,  but  this 
fact,  which  is  so  often  an  end  in  itself  to  a 
lonely  and  tender-hearted  woman,  had  received 
from  her  no  concentrated  attention. 

Indeed,  there  were  times  when  she  was 
forced  to  admit  to  herself  that  Blind  Alley 
did  not  satisfy  the  heights  and  depths  of  her 
nature.  This  was  a  confusing  admission  to  a 
woman  who,  believing  herself  a  primary  color, 
was  in  fact  a  prism.  Miriam  had  that  versa- 
tility of  temperament  that  is  so  bewildering  in 
youth,  and  so  satisfying  in  later  life.  She 
found  in  herself  a  capacity  for  doing  or  being 
a  variety  of  things,  which  presented  itself  to 
her  sometimes  as  a  misfortune  or  even  a  fault, 
and  at  others  as  a  source  of  strength. 

She  vibrated  between  the  extremes  of  her 
nature,  and  wondered  that  she  had  neither 
content  nor  rest.  She  allowed  herself  forays 
into  untried  powers.  Now  and  then  she  wrote 
verses.  Under  pen-names,  which  she  changed 
often  for  fear  of  identification,  she  occa- 
sionally contributed  little  stories  or  essays  to  a 


TRIXY  87 

newspaper  or  magazine.  She  had  the  love  of 
color  and  form  which  may  make  an  artist  or 
an  amateur.  At  present  she  was  experiment- 
ing to  learn  which  of  these  she  was.  When 
the  new  art  school  was  opened  within  a  few 
blocks  of  her  house,  Miss  Lauriat  joined  a 
private  class.  For  some  months  she  had  been 
working  in  pastel. 

It  was  perhaps  a  week  after  the  little  per- 
formance which  Dan  and  Trixy  gave  at  the 
Mooses'  Retreat,  that  Miriam  found  herself 
hurrying  up  the  broad  steps  of  the  art  school, 
for  her  morning  lesson.  She  was  late,  and 
her  master  was  not  a  man  to  accept  excuses 
from  the  rich.  He  received  her  with  a  frown, 
and  indicated  her  subject  curtly.  It  was  a 
nocturne  by  Whistler. 

"  I  can  do  nothing  with  it,  Signor,"  she 
said.  "  The  sails  look  like  crucified  angels. 
Please  give  me  something  suited  to  my  igno- 
rance." 

"  I  forgot,"  retorted  the  teacher,  "  the 
color  scheme  is  above  you.  Try  this,  then." 
Smiling  sarcastically  he  flung  on  the  easel 
before  her  a  large  Arundel  print  of  Fra  An- 
gelico's  Christ  Transfigured. 


88  TRIXY 

Miriam  flushed,  but  went  to  work  silently 
and  solemnly.  There  were  but  few  pupils 
in  the  large  room,  and  the  spot  was  still  and 
inspiring.  Near  her  stood  a  cast  of  Rodin's 
Pity.  Beyond  were  the  antiques,  powerful 
and  calm.  Their  strong  influence  pulsated 
through  the  place.  But  the  Christ  before  her 
seemed  to  fill  it. 

With  a  sense  of  awe,  Miriam  sketched  in  the 
sacred  figure.  The  atmosphere  of  the  room 
was  almost  religious.  She  felt  herself  pos- 
sessed by  peace,  and  upheld  by  aspiration. 

While  she  sat,  her  head  bent  over  her  sketch, 
something  flitted  past  the  window  and  cast  a 
light  reflection  upon  her  bowed  face.  Glan- 
cing up  quickly  she  saw  a  white  pigeon  —  to 
her  sensitive  imagination  it  looked  like  a  dove. 
The  bird  fluttered  from  window  to  window, 
and  then  drifted  away.  At  this  moment  there 
came  from  the  adjoining  building  a  sound 
which  startled  Miriam  to  her  feet.  It  was  a 
long,  piercing,  piteous  cry.  It  was  the  cry  of 
a  sentient  being  in  mortal  agony.  It  rose 
and  fell,  and  rose  again. 

Miriam  dropped  her  crayon,  and  stood  quiv- 
ering ;  something  in  that  agonized  voice  drove 


TRIXY  89 

the  blood  from  her  heart.  She  went  as  white 
as  the  frightened  pigeon.  She  stood  as  still  as 
the  statue  of  Pity  beside  her.  Her  eyes  sought 
the  face  of  the  Christ  blindly.  The  heart-rend- 
ing sound  increased,  and  died  away.  What 
wound  did  it  open  in  the  girl's  heart?  She 
looked  smitten  and  ashen.  Her  sketch  fell  to 
the  floor.  Panting  and  faint,  she  fled  from  the 
room. 


CHAPTER  V 

Miriam  ran  out  from  the  art  school  and  went 
straight  to  the  neighboring  building.  Through 
the  inattention  with  which  one  treats  famil- 
iar points  of  interest,  she  had  forgotten  that 
this  was  the  Galen  Medical  School.  The  fact 
occurred  to  her  now  with  no  special  signifi- 
cance. She  listened  for  a  few  moments  for  the 
piercing  sounds  that  she  had  heard,  but  there 
was  no  repetition  of  them.  With  the  assur- 
ance of  position,  and  the  impulsiveness  of  her 
agitation,  she  went  up  the  steps  and  spoke 
to  a  man  (presumably  the  janitor)  who  was 
sweeping  the  vestibule. 

"  I  heard  a  dog's  cries  in  here,"  she  began 
hotly  ;  "  he  is  in  suffering  somewhere.  Go  and 
find  him  !  " 

The  man  leaned  with  his  chin  on  the 
broom,  and  regarded  the  lady  with  a  blank, 
impassive  face. 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  he  replied 
frostily. 


TRIXY  91 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  insisted  Miss  Lauriat. 
"  It  was  a  dog's  cry  of  agony.  I  thought  — 
the  voice  "  —    She  broke  off. 

"  Probably,  Miss,  it  was  an  accident  in  the 
street.    Those  blue  cars  often  run  over  them." 

The  sweeper  leisurely  resumed  his  occu- 
pation as  if  he  had  no  interest  in  a  subject  so 
remote  from  his  experience.  "  Excuse  me  ;  it 
ain't  very  clean  here  for  you,  and  the  young 
gentlemen  are  just  coming  out." 

A  cloud  of  dust  puffed  around  Miriam  as 
she  turned.  She  felt  as  if  she  were  being  swept 
down  the  steps.  At  the  bottom  she  stopped 
again,  and  looked  up  at  the  building  irreso- 
lutely. Hovering  high  in  the  air  she  thought 
she  saw  the  white  pigeon  that  had  tapped  on 
the  window  of  the  art  school.  A  very  young 
student  came  out  of  the  door  at  this  moment, 
and  ran  whistling  down. 

"Pardon  me,"  said  Miriam,  with  the  tone 
and  manner  which  instantly  brought  the  hat 
from  the  young  man's  head,  and  the  cigarette 
from  his  mouth.  "  Won't  you  tell  me  before 
the  rest  come  out  —  I  came  here  —  I'm  so 
disturbed  —  I  heard  distressing  cries  !  I  came 
here  to  find  out  what  they  mean." 


92  TKIXY 

The  janitor  —  if  he  it  was  —  had  stopped 
sweeping  and  was  closely  watching  the  two. 
But  the  very  young  student,  who  stood  with 
his  back  to  this  sub-official,  frankly  answered 
the  lady's  question. 

"  Oh,  it 's  nothing  of  any  consequence, 
madam.    Do  not  disturb  yourself." 

"  But  it  was  a  dog  !  "  cried  Miriam.  "  It 
sounded  as  if  it  were  a  little  dog." 

"  I  know  what  that  was,"  answered  the  boy 
candidly.  "  We  are  having  some  very  pretty 
psychological  experiments." 

"  Oh,"  said  Miriam,  a  little  relieved,  "  that 
means  mental  experiments,  does  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  student  pompously. 
"  It  means  experimentation  on  the  intelli- 
gence, the  affections,  and  the  will.  One  sub- 
ject is  all  we  need  for  the  purpose,  and  I 
assure  you,  madam,  it  never  suffers." 

"  Then  I  "  —  began  Miriam  with  her  charm- 
ing  manner  —  "  must  have  been  mistaken  — 
but"  — 

At  this  moment  a  torrent  of  students  poured 
from  the  door.  Baffled  and  perplexed,  Miss 
Lauriat  turned  away. 

She  could  not  forget  the  incident,  however. 


TRIXY  93 

It  pursued  her  painfully.  She  did  not  return 
to  finish  her  pastel  lesson,  but  went  directly 
home,  and  shut  herself  up  alone  for  the  rest  of 
the  day.  She  was  glad  to  have  the  house  to  her- 
self, and  once  a  year  this  privilege  fell  to  her. 

Mrs.  Percy  B.  Jeffries,  who,  in  common 
with  many  of  her  neighbors,  found  it  conven- 
ient to  change  her  legal  residence  on  the  first 
of  May,  had  already  been  some  ten  days  at 
the  shore  in  Miss  Lauriat's  summer  home.  She 
was  accustomed  to  say  that  she  went  in  ad- 
vance to  open  the  house  for  Miriam,  and  sus- 
tained the  little  pose  even  with  her  lawyer,  to 
whom  she  had  said  plaintively,  when  Surbridge 
accompanied  her  to  the  safety  vaults  to  cut  her 
May  coupons :  "  That  child  can't  do  such  things 
for  herself.  She  is  absorbed.  She  is  unpracti- 
cal. Those  people  down  there  are  monopolizing 
all  her  youth.  I  wish  you  had  never  allowed 
her  to  invest  a  dollar  in  the  slums." 

"  Pardon  me,"  the  young  attorney  had 
explained,  "  you  forget  this  was  an  inherited 
investment.  My  father  was  responsible  for 
that,  and  I  assure  you,"  he  added  loyally,  "  it 
has  proved  an  excellent  one.  She  has  nothing 
better ;  and  consider  the  usefulness  of  it.    She 


94  TRIXY 

makes  a  lot  of  people  happy,  and  clean.  Per- 
mit me,  Mrs.  Jeffries — these  P.  and  Q.  coupons 
are  worth  thirty  dollars  apiece.  I  would  n't  put 
them  in  the  ink  bottle,  if  I  were  you." 

"  You  have  your  father's  manner,  Philip," 
said  Mrs.  Jeffries  sentimentally.  "It  is  al- 
ways a  comfort  to  have  you  around.  There  1 
I  '11  mind  my  P's  and  Q's  to  please  you.  Be 
sure  and  run  down  this  summer  as  usual.  We 
expect  a  good  many  pleasant  people.  Dr. 
Steele  is  coming  out  every  Saturday.  The 
S.  P.  D.  &  C.  T.  &  E.  is  an  important  society, 
and  we  have  to  confer.  I  wish  Miriam  took 
more  interest  in  it;  but  she  doesn't  care 
about  the  animal  philanthropies.  She  says 
the  human  race  is  enough  for  her." 

It  so  happened  that  on  the  evening  of  the 
day  when  the  episode  at  the  art  school  oc- 
curred, a  matter  of  business  took  Philip  Sur- 
bridge  to  Miriam's  house.  She  received  him 
in  the  drawing-room.  The  windows  were  open ; 
the  gas  was  low.  The  large  room,  which 
had  gone  into  its  linen  shrouding  for  the 
summer,  had  a  dismal,  unfamiliar  air.  When 
Miriam  paused  before  the  gauze-covered  mir- 
ror, it  reflected  her  mistily,  as  if  she  had  been 


TKIXY  95 

a  ghost.  She  seemed  somehow  unreal  to 
Philip ;  her  body  looked  uninhabited  like  the 
house.  When  he  explained  his  errand  —  it 
was  some  mechanic's  contract  —  he  saw  that 
she  was  giving  no  attention  to  it.  She  as- 
sented indifferently  to  his  suggestions,  and 
sat  with  listless  hands  crossed  over  her  black 
skirt.  The  evening  was  warm,  and  she  wore 
a  white  silk  waist,  which  Philip  noticed  be- 
cause it  was  so  long  since  he  had  seen  her  in 
anything  but  mourning.  She  had  an  unusual 
pallor  —  perhaps  a  reflection  from  the  ivory- 
tinted  stuff  into  which  her  face  seemed  to 
melt,  or  out  of  which  it  seemed  to  grow.  She 
was  so  unlike  herself  that  Philip  refrained 
from  any  unnecessary  conversation,  and  with 
his  natural  delicacy  quickly  terminated  the 
interview,  and  arose  to  go. 

"  So  soon  ?  "  asked  Miriam  languidly. 

"  You  seem  tired  ;  I  think  it 's  better." 

"  Wait  a  minute."  Miriam  uncrossed  her 
hands  slowly,  and,  rising,  stood  tall  and  still 
in  the  dim  room  beside  him.  He  could  feel 
how  constrained  she  was. 

"  Such  a  strange  thing  happened  to-day," 
she  began.    She  had  not  meant  to  tell  him, 


96  TRIXY 

nor  to  tell  any  one  ;  in  fact,  though  she  could 
hardly  have  explained  why,  she  felt  a  poignant 
reluctance  to  repeating  the  experience  of  the 
morning.  But  she  was  used  to  telling  things 
to  Philip.  She  always  had ;  sometimes  she 
suspected  that  most  people  did.  He  was  that 
kind  of  a  man.  His  presence  in  the  lonely 
house  (deserted  now  of  the  whole  family  ex- 
cepting the  old  seamstress  and  Maggie)  inde- 
finably soothed  her.  Suddenly  it  seemed  to 
her  necessary  to  speak,  and  she  told  him  the 
story. 

Surbridge  listened  in  silence.  As  she 
talked,  he  crossed  to  the  open  window  and 
stood  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said  when  she  paused. 

"  That  is  all,"  said  Miriam  with  a  sigh  of 
relief. 

Philip  turned  away  from  the  window  and 
asked  a  few  quiet  questions,  naturally  enough  ; 
but  Miriam  quickly  detected  the  professional 
instinct  beneath  the  personal  sympathy. 

"  You  cross-examine  !  "  she  cried. 

So  Philip  laughed  and  left  her.  Now,  as 
he  passed  up  the  street,  he  came  face  to  face 
with  Dr.  Steele. 


TRIXY  97 

"  By  the  way,"  said  the  lawyer  carelessly, 
"  may  I  walk  a  few  steps  with  you  ?  I  want 
to  ask  you  about  a  certain  matter." 

Philip  retraced  his  way,  and  the  two  gen- 
tlemen walked  back  towards  the  house.  Sur- 
bridge spoke  in  a  low  voice,  and  could  not 
have  been  overheard  by  passers,  but  as  the 
physiologist  listened  an  expression  of  cold  an- 
noyance stiffened  his  face.  Before  they  came 
to  Miss  Lauriat's  door  he  halted. 

"  Why  should  I  answer  these  questions  ?  " 
His  lips  sharpened.  "I  am  not  on  the  witness 
stand.    You  will  excuse  me,  Surbridge." 

Surbridge  laughed  again  —  he  had  a  sin- 
gularly quiet,  pleasant  laugh  —  and  walked 
back.  He  had  not  gone  a  block  when  he  ad- 
mitted to  himself  an  unpardonable  curiosity. 
He  glanced  around,  and  saw  Dr.  Steele  com- 
ing away  from  Miss  Lauriat's  house.  Plainly 
he  had  not  been  admitted. 

"  Now,"  thought  Philip,  "  what 's  the  mean- 
ing of  that  t " 

This  question  Miriam  herself  could  not  have 
answered. 

Dr.  Steele  plunged  his  hands  deep  into  the 


98  TRIXY 

water.  He  bathed  them  with  something  more 
than  his  usual  scrupulousness,  repeating  the 
act  a  good  many  times.  As  he  held  his  long 
and  slender  but  strong  fingers  to  the  light,  a 
slight  shadow  fell  upon  them  from  the  window 
near  which  he  stood  —  there  was  a  coo,  a  whir 
—  and  some  pigeons  flew  from  the  sill ;  one, 
it  seemed,  was  white.  He  glanced  at  it  idly. 
The  principal  thought  that  it  suggested  to  him 
couched  itself  in  some  such  words  as  these : 

"  Those  Germans  have  done  remarkably  in- 
teresting work  with  the  brains  of  doves." 

"  Down  !  "  A  raucous  voice  jarred  from 
the  adjoining  room.    "  Down,  I  say  !  " 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  tone  or  the 
accent  of  his  assistant.  Somehow,  it  always 
grated  on  Steele,  even  now,  and  after  all.  He 
turned  impatiently,  and  looked  into  the  labor- 
atory. There,  a  picture,  something  new  even 
to  his  wide  experience,  presented  itself. 

A  black  spaniel  of  the  cocker  breed  stood 
upon  the  table  before  which  Bernard  was  sta- 
tioned. It  must  have  been  originally  a  very 
beautiful  spaniel ;  its  scarred  forehead  was 
parted  with  white,  and  a  white  ruff  like  a 
shirt-frill  stood  out  thickly  from  its  breast.   It 


TRIXY  99 

had  large  hazel  eyes,  perhaps  also  once  beau- 
tiful, but  now,  for  reasons  and  by  processes 
known  only  to  these  two  men,  the  spaniel's 
expression  had  become  mysteriously  dulled. 
Yet  a  flicker  of  terror  lighted  it  at  the  touch 
of  Bernard's  significant  hands.  At  this  mo- 
ment, when  Dr.  Steele  looked  up,  the  little 
creature  had  raised  itself  with  difficulty,  and, 
reaching  up,  put  both  arms  around  the  ex- 
perimenter's neck.  Bernard  unclasped  them 
roughly.  The  dog  repeated  the  piteous  ges- 
ture ;  he  did  not  cry  nor  whine,  but  with  the 
inextinguishable  trust  and  tenderness  of  his 
race  entreated  the  man.  But  Bernard  pushed 
the  spaniel  off.  As  he  did  so  he  fingered  the 
dog-board  greedily. 

Steele  stood  hesitating.  The  scene  annoyed 
him  —  who  should  say  why  ?  He  had  wit- 
nessed a  thousand  worse.  It  occurred  to  him 
that  he  had  never  seen  that  particular  pose 
before.  Perhaps  another  thought  —  but  again, 
who  could  say  why  there  should  be  any  such 
thought?  —  at  that  hour,  and  in  that  place? 

"  Let  the  dog  be  for  to-day,  if  you  please," 
he  said  with  authoritative  courtesy.  "  Give  it 
a  rest  —  for  a  while." 


100  TRIXY 

"  What 's  the  matter  with  you  ?  "  demanded 
Bernard  roughly.  He  dropped  the  spaniel 
(who,  cowering  from  him,  leaped  from  the 
table),  and  turned  his  sullen  face  towards  his 
superior. 

"  I'm  going  out  of  town,"  replied  Dr.  Steele. 
"  I  can't  go  on  with  these  experiments  to-day." 

"  But  I  can,"  urged  Bernard,  with  an  evil 
expression.  "  Vacation  's  the  time  for  it  —  no 
students  around." 

"  Oblige  me  by  regarding  my  wishes,"  per- 
sisted the  professor.  "  I  prefer  to  be  present 
when  these  researches  are  continued.  Send  the 
dog  back  to  its  cage." 

"All  right,"  answered  Bernard,  with  his 
unpleasant  smile.  "  I  understand." 

The  released  spaniel,  moved  by  God  knew 
what  impulse,  stopped  as  it  passed  by  the 
young  professor  of  physiology,  and  tried  to 
kiss  his  hand.  An  expression  which  could  not 
be  interpreted  as  one  of  pity,  and  which  was 
far  from  indicating  a  sense  of  regret,  but 
which  might  have  been  called  a  conscious- 
ness of  discomfort,  brushed  the  face  of  Olin 
Steele. 

He  went   directly   out   from   the    medical 


TRIXY  101 

school,  and  hurried  to  the  wharf ;.  whence  he 
took  the  boat  for  the  familiar  shore  where 
Miss  Lauriat  spent  her  summers. 

The  day  was  hot,  —  it  was  July,  —  and 
Steele,  as  the  little  steamer  tossed  along  the 
coast,  luxuriously  turned  his  face  towards  the 
salt  wind.  He  had  spent  all  the  morning  in 
his  laboratory,  and  felt  that  he  had  earned 
his  holiday.  A  faint  memory  that  he  had  seen 
it  spelled  another  way  tapped  with  muffled 
fingers  at  his  barred  imagination.  The  word 
had  some  time  since  gone  out  of  evidence  in 
the  physiologist's  vocabulary ;  yet  he  might 
have  said  that  this,  if  any,  if  ever,  was  holy 
day  to  him. 

White  of  soul  and  fair  of  body,  the  woman 
seemed  to  float  through  the  summer  air  be- 
fore him,  and  without  a  glance,  without  a 
gesture,  silent  and  maidenly,  she  drew  him 
on.  From  sounds  and  sights  which  would  have 
rent  her  with  recoil  had  she  dreamed  of  them 
in  her  darkest  dream,  he  turned  his  hurry- 
ing feet  to  her,  complacently.  Red-handed  he 
sought  her ;  iron-willed  he  hunted  her. 

Yet  a  man  who  has  ever  known  and  cher- 
ished the  nobler  ideals   is  haunted  by  their 


1C2  TRIXY 

shadows  when-  he  has  foresworn  their  sub- 
stance ;  chat  which  was  left  of  the  high  and 
the  fine  in  Olin  Steele  was  concentrated  with 
a  dedication  in  which  there  was  something 
to  be  respected,  upon  his  passion.  On  all 
the  altars  of  his  soid  the  sacrifices  were  con- 
sumed —  only  on  this  one,  only  for  her,  the 
fire  burned. 

Halfway  up  the  avenue  to  her  summer  home 
he  met  her  slowly  walking  down.  She  was  in 
white  from  head  to  foot  —  a  foamy  white,  with 
ivory  laces  that  stirred  in  the  strong  wind.  He 
had  not  seen  her  dressed  like  this  before,  and 
marveled  at  the  sublimation. 

Suddenly  contrasting  with  her  mourning 
black,  there  was  a  subtle  suggestion  in  the 
happy  dress  at  which  his  head  whirled  gid- 
dily.   He  did  not,  could  not,  would  not  help  it. 

"  There  is  something  almost  bridal  about 
these  beautiful  white  costumes,"  he  said,  with- 
out preface  or  apology,  as  he  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Forgive  me  !  "  he  cried,  when  he  saw  the 
expression  of  her  lifted  face.  It  seemed  in  a 
moment  to  have  fallen  away  from  him,  and 
the  hand  which  she  had  extended  heartily 
dropped  from  his. 


TRIXY  103 

A  dozen  years  ago  Steele  would  not  have 
said  a  thing  like  that ;  it  occurred  to  him  as 
soon  as  he  had  spoken  that  there  was  a  dif- 
ferent way  in  which  he  used  to  dream  that  he 
should  woo  a  woman.  His  face  flushed  with 
mortification  at  his  faux  pas ;  Miss  Lauriat 
had  never  seen  the  doctor  blush  before,  and 
she  who  winced  from  every  evidence  of  pain 
in  other  organisms  as  if  it  had  been  her  own, 
melted  instantly  into  a  sweet  pardon  of  this 
man  to  whom  she  felt  imperiously  drawn,  or 
by  whom  she  was  mysteriously  disenchanted  a 
score  of  times  in  every  hour  that  they  passed 
together. 

These,  that  summer,  had  been  already 
many.  She  had  treated  him  graciously,  in- 
deed, with  such  cordiality  that  Olin's  spirits 
had  risen,  and  his  courage  with  them.  He 
needed  both  for  a  wooing  in  which  the  man 
found  himself  more  at  a  loss  than  in  any  un- 
dertaking on  which  he  had  ever  deliberately 
entered.  Deliberate  he  was,  and  determined. 
He  meant  to  win  this  woman ;  and  he  had 
always  done  what  he  had  meant  to  do.  But 
she  daunted  him  and  taunted  him.  When  he 
advanced,  she  retreated.    When   he  retraced 


104  TEIXY 

a  step,  she  seemed  to  stand  still.  She  was  as 
elusive  as  fortune,  and  as  alluring  as  mystery. 
When  he  loved  her  most,  he  admitted  to  him- 
self that  he  understood  her  least. 

"  I  thank  you  for  forgiving  me,"  he  said 
in  a  tone  so  gentle  that  in  another  man  it 
might  have  been  called  humble.  This  gave 
him  an  advantage  which  he  was  not  slow  to 
perceive  ;  adroitly  he  changed  the  subject  at 
once,  and  they  passed  up  the  wooded  avenue, 
chatting  of  little  things. 

As  they  came  in  sight  of  the  piazza  where 
Mrs.  Jeffries,  with  the  expression  and  manner 
that  she  reserved  for  Docking  and  Cropping 
Tails  and  Ears,  was  waiting  for  them,  a  kitten 
blew  around  the  corner  of  the  house,  head  and 
tail  slantwise,  steering  its  way  in  the  brisk  sea 
wind.  So  running,  it  dashed  against  Miriam, 
and  climbed  up  the  lace  of  her  dress.  It  was 
a  maltese  kitten,  and  around  its  gray  neck 
was  tied  a  broad  pink  ribbon. 

"  Professor  Steele  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Jeffries, 
getting  heavily  to  her  feet,  "  you  are  faint  — 
you  are  ill  !  What  ails  you,  my  dear  friend  ? 
What  can  we  do  for  you  ?    What  can  I  "  — 

On  the  palette  of  her  sentence  the  words  ran 


TRIXY  105 

together  like  gamboge  and  Prussian  blue,  and 
became  a  puzzled  silence,  which  was  a  new  color. 

For,  at  sight  of  the  kitten,  Olin  Steele  had 
blanched  as  a  man  does  who  is  smitten  with 
ill  tidings.  He  stood  staring,  as  if  he  saw 
some  little  animal  ghost.  When  Miss  Lauriat 
caressed  the  kitten  and  dropped  it  gently 
though  not  affectionately  to  the  ground,  it 
began  to  purr  loudly.  The  sound  reverberated 
in  Steele's  ears.  It  seemed  to  him  to  come 
from  a  great  distance. 

He  recovered  himself  quickly,  made  some 
sort  of  apology  for  a  passing  indisposition, 
and  threw  the  matter  off  as  lightly  as  it  was 
now  possible  to  do. 

"  You  are  over- worked  !  "  said  Mrs.  Jeffries 
tenderly.  "  I  revere  the  consecration  of  your 
profession,  Dr.  Steele.  You  shall  not  go  back 
to  town  to-night.  You  are  not  in  a  fit  con- 
dition to  discuss  the  painful  objects  of  our 
society.  The  S.  P.  D.  &  C.  T.  &  E.  can  wait 
till  you  are  in  a  less  sensitive  state.  You  shall 
stay  and  rest  until  to-morrow." 

With  outward  languor  (as  that  of  the  con- 
secrated who  is  exhausted  by  devotion  to 
sacred  duties)  but  with  an  inward  ecstasy  so 


106  TRIXY 

powerful  that  he  dared  allow  no  sign  of  its 
whirlwind  to  escape  his  dizzy  heart,  Dr. 
Steele  accepted  the  invitation.  He  had  now 
resumed  himself  completely.  After  dinner  he 
hovered  over  Mrs.  Jeffries  and  the  affairs  of 
the  S.  P.  D.  &  C.  T.  &  E.  for  a  conscientious 
hour.  Mrs.  Jeffries  was  making  the  usual 
pudding  of  her  papers,  and  Miriam  occupied 
herself  in  suggesting  that  Mr.  Surbridge 
ought  to  be  made  counsel  for  the  society. 

"  Nobody  else  can  handle  Aunt  Cornelia 
when  it  comes  to  papers,"  she  said,  looking 
over  her  shoulder  with  that  mocking  smile 
which  was  the  more  enchanting  because  it  was 
always  unexpected,  and  clearly  at  a  certain 
variance  with  her  gentleness  and  sincerity  of 
manner. 

Dr.  Steele  studiously  concerned  himself  with 
what  Mrs.  Jeffries  called  "  the  literature  "  of 
the  society.  He  separated  the  circulars  on 
Docking  from  the  pamphlets  on  Cropping 
with  a  slow  and  conscientious  hand  before  he 
observed  quietly  : 

"I  have  the  highest  regard  for  Mr.  Sur- 
bridge's  professional  abilities  —  there  can  be 
no  two  opinions  on  that.    He  is  a  growing 


TRIXY  107 

man,  and  has  a  future  beyond  doubt.  But  I 
confess  I  have  sometimes  wondered  how  so 
young  a  lawyer  came  to  be  in  the  position  he 
occupies  in  this  family ;  not  that  it  is  in  the 
least  any  business  of  mine." 

"  His  father  was  Mr.  Lauriat's  counsel," 
explained  Mrs.  Jeffries,  warming  promptly  to 
the  subject  of  her  favorite.  "  He  has  inherited 
the  position,  and  I  assure  you,  Professor 
Steele,  we  count  it  as  one  of  our  best  and 
dearest  legacies.  Mr.  Surbridge  is  a  lovely 
fellow.  —  Miriam  !  there  's  that  kitten  again. 
Do  send  it  away.  I  am  sure  that  cats  are  un- 
pleasant to  our  guest.  There  are  people,  you 
know,  so  constituted.    Are  n't  there,  Doctor  ?  " 

Mrs.  Jeffries  rose,  and  herself  went  out  of 
the  room  with  the  maltese.  Miriam  and  Steele 
could  hear  her  in  the  hall  politely  adjuring 
the  kitten  : 

"  Scat !  scat !  scat !    Why  don't  you  scat  ?  " 

"  You  don't  like  cats,"  began  Steele  in  his 
authoritative  tone,  "  any  better  than  I  do. 
Why  don't  you  have  a  dog  ?  You  need  some- 
thing of  that  kind.  You  need  something  to 
love.    You  are  so  constituted." 

Miriam  walked  over  to  the  long,  low  win- 


108  TRIXY 

dow,  and  stood  looking  out  to  sea.  Her  white 
dress  blew  straight  back  around  her  in  the 
rising  wind. 

"  I  lost  one,"  she  said  in  a  very  low  voice. 
"  It  was  a  good  while  ago.  I  don't  want 
another." 

"  I  have  sometimes  thought,"  ventured 
Steele,  "  if  you  would  allow  me  "  — 

"  Scat !  scat !  "  plaintively  entreated  Aunt 
Cornelia  on  the  piazza.  "  Oh,  you  have  scat- 
ted  !  " 

"  On  no  account,  whatever."  Miriam  quick- 
ly turned  around. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Olin  Steele. 

"  I  am  going  out  on  the  piazza,"  observed 
Miss  Lauriat  coldly.  "  You  can  come  if  you 
like." 

He  followed  her,  distanced  and  dejected. 
Mysteriously,  in  the  lifting  of  an  eyelid,  she 
seemed  to  have  evaded  him.  Yet  in  a  moment, 
as  mysteriously,  she  seemed  to  pause  and  re- 
trace a  step  or  two  in  his  direction.  When 
he  sat  down  beside  her,  silently  and  unobtru- 
sively, she  gave  him  her  sweet  and  natural 
smile.  He  began  anyhow,  hardly  knowing 
what  he  said : 


TRIXY  109 

"I  have  such  a  fine  old  dog  of  my  own. 
He  's  a  St.  Bernard  —  a  dear  fellow.  I  should 
like  to  have  you  see  him." 

"  And  I  should  like  to,"  replied  Miriam 
heartily. 

"  And  my  mother,"  ventured  Steele,  "  she 
is  an  invalid.  My  sister  is  not  at  home  ;  she 
married.  Mother  is  a  lonely  woman  ;  a  very 
sweet  one.    I  wish  you  knew  my  mother."      > 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  mothers,"  said 
Miriam  in  an  odd  tone.  "  Mine  died.  I  was 
three  years  old  — 

"  I  am  sorry  for  yours,"  she  added  gently. 
"  It  is  hard  —  to  die  while  you  are  alive  like 
that." 

Her  low,  vibrant  voice,  her  gentle  attitude, 
all  the  womanliness  of  her,  and  the  magic  of 
her,  went  to  Olin  Steele's  head  like  a  fine, 
celestial  wine  —  sometime,  somehow,  to  be 
quaffed,  but  now  for  the  first  time  tasted  at 
the  brim. 

"  Come  down  to  the  shore  with  me,"  he 
said  suddenly  ;  "  I  wish  it  very  much." 

She  might  have  defied,  but  she  yielded. 
She  might  have  daunted  him  —  he  never 
knew    what    she    would    do  —  but    she    gra- 


110  TRIXY 

ciously  deferred.  She  might  have  taunted 
and  tantalized,  but  she  melted  and  bent. 

The  moon  was  at  the  full,  and  so  was 
the  tide.  The  two  walked  down  the  road 
and  over  the  beach  silently.  Miriam  had  the 
strong  step  of  a  healthy,  happy  woman ;  he 
could  not  remember  that  any  woman  had  ever 
kept  pace  with  him  before.  He  looked  at  her 
with  half-blind  eyes.  In  her  white  laces,  with 
the  thrilling  light  on  her  face,  she  looked 
remote  from  him  —  he  could  not  have  ex- 
plained why  —  and  yet  how  near  ! 

"  She  shall  be  nearer,"  thought  the  man. 

He  brought  his  lips  together ;  they  made  a 
mouth  of  iron.  The  woman's  had  a  gentle, 
almost  a  helpless  look  in  contrast. 

The  beach,  by  chance,  was  quite  deserted ; 
it  was  not  a  rowing  beach,  —  there  was  the 
wharf  for  the  boats  ;  and  the  summer  peo- 
ple were  floating  dimly  on  the  water,  or  clus- 
tered darkly  on  the  rocks. 

The  wind  was  going  down,  and  the  surf 
with  it.  The  long  throb  of  the  third  roller 
pulsated  regularly,  with  little  agitation  and 
less  foam,  but  with  a  steady  and  advancing 
force  which  Miriam  sensitively  felt. 


TRIXY  111 

At  once  she  loved  the  sea  and  hated  it. 
Sometimes  she  wished  never  to  look  upon  its 
face  again ;  yet  it  drew  her  back  as  the  ebb- 
tide sucked  the  seaweed.  The  complexity  in 
her  nature  vibrated  before  inevitable  power, 
whose  deficiency  of  mercy  repelled  and  es- 
tranged her,  even  while  she  yielded  to  it. 

Oppressed  by  the  silence  that  had  subtly 
settled  down  between  herself  and  the  man, 
she  broke  it,  half  audibly  : 

"  It  will  carry  you  safely  anywhere  —  and 
drown  you  cordially  any  time  —  that's  the 
sea." 

Lifted  swiftly,  her  candid  eyes  snared  him 
unawares,  and  for  one  troubled  moment  it 
seemed  to  her  that  she  saw  the  ocean  in  his 
face. 

Most  illusions  have  their  spiritual  sentries 
whose  subtle  guardianship  may  be  felt  long 
before  it  is  perceived  by  the  soul.  There  is 
a  prefiguration  granted  to  a  woman  on  the  ap- 
proach of  fate ;  in  this  solemn  prescience  she 
elects  or  escapes  her  lot,  with  a  perfect  intel- 
ligence which  she  can  never  forget,  but  which 
she  will  ignore  to  her  last  hour.  After  such 
a  moment  she  has  no  accusations  to  hurl  in 


112  TRIXY 

the  face  of  life.  As  Lucifer  of  hell,  so  she  of 
experience  is  compelled  to  answer:  "Myself 
am  destiny." 

Miriam  stood  looking  quite  steadily  into 
the  eyes  of  Olin  Steele.  The  man  was  no- 
thing less  than  formidable.  His  passion  swept 
around  her  as  the  sea  heaved  about  the  little 
boat,  —  it  seemed  to  be  leagues  away  at  that 
moment,  —  crossing  the  splendor  of  the  daz- 
zling path  set  from  eternity  between  the  moon 
and  the  sea.  The  sigh  of  the  surf,  the  calm 
of  the  shore,  the  separateness  in  which  they 
two  stood,  rose  around  her  solemnly  like  a 
tide  in  which  she  must  drown. 

Nothing  seemed  to  her  quite  real  —  nothing 
except  that  she  was  loved ;  she  was  loved  as 
she  had  dreamed  of  being  loved,  as  she  had 
not  hoped  to  be  or  even  always  wished  to 
be,  —  by  a  man  who  would  scorn  denial,  and 
laugh  at  reluctance ;  who  would  hurl  her  fem- 
inine subterfuges  into  star-dust,  and  create 
the  planet  on  which  she  should  be  his.  Yes, 
and  a  man  who  had  loved  her  without  wait- 
ing to  find  out  that  or  why  he  did,  and  who 
would  love  her,  whether  she  yielded  or  defied, 
as  long  as  he  lived,  or  she. 


TRIXY  113 

Before  he  had  spoken  a  word  Miriam  knew 
what  he  would  say.  She  made  no  effort  to 
deter  him,  but  listened  gently,  when,  with  a 
quietness  that  subdued  her  and  astonished 
himself,  Steele  said  : 

"  Ever  since  I  saw  your  face  —  that  first 
day  —  you  have  been  the  only  woman  in  the 
world  for  me." 

Miriam,  casting  about  blindly  for  words, 
found  none.  She  turned  her  agitated  face  to 
the  sea.  The  surf  was  rising,  and  began  to 
rage  upon  the  cliff.  In  the  unreal  light  the 
unreal  boat  had  floated  on  and  away.  No- 
thing now  obstructed  the  path  between  the 
sea  and  the  moon. 

"  I  have  never  seen  any  other  woman  whom 
I  wished  to  make  my  wife,"  said  Olin  Steele. 
"  I  did  not  know  that  a  man  could  feel  like 
this  to  any  woman.  I  love  you.  .  .  .  Do  you 
understand  ?  .  .  .  I  love  you." 

"How  much  do  you  love  me?"  asked 
Miriam  in  an  unsteady  voice.  She  was  con- 
scious of  the  weakness  of  her  words  as  soon 
as  she  had  uttered  them.  She  did  not  look  at 
him  any  longer.  Steele  wished  that  he  could 
have  seen  her  head  droop,  or  her  color  change. 


114  TRIXY 

"  Give  me  the  right  to  show  you  !  "  he  cried. 

But  Miriam  shrank. 

"  I  cannot  —  I  do  not  like  to  —  talk  about 
it.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  what  you  say.  I  like 
it  better  —  the  way  we  are." 

Steele  laughed. 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  escape  me  ?  .  .  . 
Try!"   ' 

Her  beautiful  color  came  now,  wave  upon 
wave,  till  her  face  was  lost  in  the  flood  of  it. 
It  was  as  if  she  hesitated  and  swayed  towards 
him. 

"Miriam  !  " 

A  voice  that  seemed  to  come  from  a  great 
height,  and  to  be  freighted  with  supernal 
solemnity,  dropped  like  a  boulder  upon  the 
two.  Steele  wheeled  as  if  he  had  been  struck 
and  mangled  ;  but  Miriam  —  she  could  not 
help  it  —  laughed. 

"  Is  it  Azrael  ?    Or  Gabriel  ?  " 

"  Atropos,  it  seems ;  "  Steele  ground  his 
teeth.  "And  you  can  laugh."  He  turned  upon 
her  with  a  certain  brutality ;  she  had  never 
seen  anything  of  the  kind  in  him  before. 

"  Mir-i-um  ?  —  Look  up  here.  See  who  has 
come  to  spend  Sunday." 


TRIXY  115 

Miriam  lifted  her  beautiful  chin.  Mrs. 
Percy  B.  Jeffries,  affectionately  attached  to 
the  arm  of  Philip  Surbridge,  solidly  orna- 
mented the  cliff-top. 

"  Let  us  go  back,"  Surbridge  was  heard  to 
urge  his  clinging  client. 

"  No,"  said  Miriam  distinctly.  "  Do  not  go 
away.    Come  —  and  bring  Atropos  with  you." 

She  dashed  at  a  tear  which  was  creeping 
into  her  not  very  happy  smile.  How  should 
a  man  know  that  a  woman  laughs  lest  she 
should  cry,  and  cries  because  she  has  laughed  ? 

At  that  moment  Dr.  Steele  could  have 
cheerfully  chloroformed  Mrs.  Jeffries,  or  ex- 
perimented (without  anaesthesia)  upon  Sur- 
bridge. 

But  Olin's  face  was  the  finely  finished  mask 
of  a  man  who  has  for  years  had  more  in  his 
life  to  conceal  than  to  reveal. 

He  made  no  effort  to  address  Miriam  again 
that  evening,  and  in  the  morning  took  so 
early  a  train  that  she  was  not  down.  But  he 
wrote  to  her  as  soon  as  he  reached  town  — 
madly  and  powerfully.  It  was  a  letter  which 
would  have  brought  almost  any  other  woman 
whom  he  knew  to  his  arms.    He  wrote  without 


116  TRIXY 

rereading,  without  pausing,  without  reflect- 
ing. He  wrote  as  rivers  rush,  as  fire  burns, 
as  torrents  fall,  as  nature  would  and  willed  — 
yet  reverently  and  even  delicately  ;  almost  as 
that  sensitive  boy  might  have  written,  who 
died  that  a  physiologist  should  live. 


CHAPTER    VI 

Miriam  was  moved  by  Steele's  letter.  She 
answered  it  gently,  but,  for  so  young  a 
woman,  guardedly.  She  wrote  with  a  fine, 
old-fashioned  courtesy,  and  thanked  him  for 
the  honor  that  he  did  her  ;  begged  his  tol- 
erance for  a  state  of  feeling  which  made  it 
difficult  for  her  to  reply  with  the  finality  that 
he  had  a  right  to  expect;  expressed  her 
preference  for  the  relation  of  friendship  as 
opposed  to  that  which  he  sought,  with  the 
naivete  given  to  woman  only  at  such  stages 
of  experience,  admitted  that  she  should  be 
sorry  to  lose  this  friendship  out  of  her  life ; 
distinctly  granted  nothing  more,  yet  refrained 
from  insisting  that  nothing  more  could  ever 
be  possible. 

Olin  Steele  carried  the  letter  against  his 
heart  like  a  boy.  When  he  was  alone  with  it, 
he  scorched  it  with  kisses.  His  step  rang,  his 
eyes  assumed  the  look  that  a  man  wears  but 
once  in  life,  and  many  never.    He  was  like 


118  TRIXY 

one  who  is  climbing  into  a  high  altitude 
slowly,  but  of  his  power  to  reach  the  summit 
has  no  troublesome  doubt. 

To  power,  indeed,  as  a  factor  in  life,  he 
was  inclined  to  give  its  full  mathematical  value. 
Sheer  strength,  simple  advantage,  seemed  to 
him  the  basis  of  calculation.  The  solution  of 
most  problems  he  had  found  to  lie  in  superi- 
ority, mental  or  even  physical.  His  profes- 
sional existence  depended  upon  the  doctrine 
that  dominion  argued  rights  rather  than  obli- 
gations. Almost  every  day  of  the  last  decade 
of  his  life  he  had  sacrificed  the  weak  to  the 
strong,  the  small  to  the  great.  He  had  become 
accustomed  to  such  a  transposition  of  the 
moral  claims,  and  to  such  a  disarrangement 
of  spiritual  values,  that  he  had  lost  the  deli- 
cate micrometer  by  which  he  was  used  to 
measure  the  meaning  of  things. 

Perhaps  he  had  never  distinctly  reduced 
his  views  of  the  great  relation  of  life  to 
words ;  but,  if  he  had,  they  would  have  been 
something  like  these :  The  world  is  divided 
into  the  reigning  and  the  subject  races ; 
man,  clearly,  belongs  to  one  of  these  ;  woman, 
plainly,  to  the   other.    A  man  who   loves    a 


TRIXY  119 

woman  not  easily  to  be  won  must  gain  her 
by  some  species  of  force  —  what,  will  depend 
upon  the  specimen  of  her  race  with  whom  he 
has  to  deal.  The  chief  element  in  the  strug- 
gle will  be  his  personal  determination. 

Into  this  determination  Steele  now  hurled 
his  being,  as  a  child  drops  the  boat  he  has 
carved  into  Niagara.  Miriam  Lauriat  was  a 
woman  of  intellect ;  she  deferred  to  the  su- 
premacy of  his.  She  was  capable  of  a  pro- 
found and  passionate  love ;  she  would  yield 
to  the  torrent  of  his.  She  was  in  so  far 
attracted  to  him  that  it  rested  with  him- 
self—  he  now  believed  —  to  beleaguer  her 
thoroughly,  to  overcome  her  absolutely.  He 
perceived,  indeed,  that  he  had  forced  his  op- 
portunity ;  that  he  had  spoken  too  soon.  He 
passed  the  summer  in  a  confident  attempt  to 
retrieve  the  mistake ;  for  this  delay  he  was 
conscious  of  purposing  that  she  should  some- 
time atone  to  him. 

Their  relation  had  now  become  an  absorb- 
ing one.  They  had  entered  upon  the  ancient 
warfare  for  which  history  has  never  yet  re- 
corded the  protocols  of  peace  —  that  between 
the   loving   and   pursuing  man  and  the  at- 


120  TRIXY 

tracted  but  reluctant  woman.  Steele  seemed 
to  himself  to  be  steadily  gaining  upon  her  re- 
sistance. With  hope  in  his  heart  and  light  in 
his  eyes  he  went  to  her  one  August  after- 
noon. 

He  was  intending  to  take  the  boat,  as  usual, 
but  when  he  reached  the  wharf  he  found  it 
crowded  with  a  class  of  passengers  who  were 
not  agreeable  to  him.  He  had  no  mind  to  join 
an  excursion  from  the  slums,  and,  suddenly 
changing  his  purpose,  went  out  by  train. 
When  he  left  it  at  the  seaside  station  he  was 
pleased  and  surprised  to  see  Miss  Lauriat's 
black  pair,  with  Matthew  on  the  box  ;  in  the 
carriage,  however,  there  seemed  to  be  other 
guests.  Matthew  did  not  stop  at  the  station, 
and  as  the  carriage  whirled  by,  Steele  had  a 
good  opportunity  to  see  that  it  was  filled,  and 
filled  to  overflowing,  with  women  and  children 
of  the  social  species  that  he  had  left  behind 
him  on  the  wharf  in  town. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  house,  tired  and 
dusty  from  his  walk,  an  unexpected  pastel 
greeted  him.  Framed  by  the  tall  trees  of  the 
avenue  where  the  vistas  were  cut  out,  a  per- 
spective of   sea  met  a  foreground  of   lawn 


TRIXY  121 

party.  Rugs  were  spread,  a  tent,  and  tables. 
The  shrill  crackle  of  uneducated  voices  came 
to  his  ear  before  he  had  come  near  enough 
clearly  to  see  Miss  Lauriat's  guests.  These 
were  twenty  or  thirty  in  number,  and  plainly 
they  represented  her  tenants  and  proteges  in 
Blind  Alley.  Ecstasy  was  in  their  voices,  and 
adoration  in  their  eyes.  Old  women  were  there, 
and  children  of  assorted  sizes.  Cady's  Molly 
was  there  in  her  red  shirt  waist  and  pink  hair- 
ribbons,  tastefully  relieved  by  a  yellow  hat. 
Cady's  Molly's  father  was  there,  and  Dan 
Badger  —  in  fact,  the  leading  social  circles 
of  Blind  Alley  were  represented. 

Miss  Lauriat,  in  a  plain  white  linen  dress, 
moved  merrily  about  among  this  pathetic 
group.  Dr.  Steele  stood  under  the  trees  for  a 
moment  before  he  made  his  presence  known. 
A  consumptive  woman,  with  a  baby  in  her 
arms,  and  three  little  girls  rolling  over  her, 
was  sitting  on  the  grass  quite  near  him.  At- 
tached to  this  family  was  a  dingy  white  mon- 
grel of  a  melancholy  disposition,  who  regarded 
Dr.  Steele  in  cynical  silence.  But  the  woman 
looked  up  with  the  cheerful  smile  of  her  dis- 
order. 


122  TRIXY 

"  Nice  !  "  she  said,  "  ain't  it  ?  Say,  did  yer 
ever  see  anything  like  it,  anywheres  else  ?  " 

Dr.  Steele's  eyes  sought  Miss  Lauriat's  ex- 
alted face.  "  No,"  he  said  heartily,  "  no,  I 
never  did." 

"Say,"  repeated  the  woman,  "d'you  s'pose 
heaven's  anything  like  this  here?" 

"It  is  very  possible,"  replied  Steele  fer- 
vently. 

"  Because,"  said  the  woman,  "  if  I  thought 
it  was  "  — 

"  What  would  you  do  ?  "  asked  Steele  indif- 
ferently, "  if  you  thought  it  were  ?  " 

The  woman  had  caught  the  indefinable  ac- 
cent of  patronage  in  his  tone,  or  perhaps  she 
perceived  that  her  grammar  was  corrected. 
(We  remember  that  Patrick  Henry  talked  to 
the  backwoodsmen  in  their  own  dialect.)  She 
glanced  at  Steele  sharply,  and  did  not  finish 
her  sentence.  In  fact,  she  took  her  children 
and  moved  away. 

Now  Dr.  Steele  was  more  astonished  than 
gratified  to  see  Philip  Surbridge,  who  had 
been  teaching  a  little  boy  to  ride  a  bicycle, 
catch  up  the  three  little  girls  and  put  them, 
with  his  ringing,  boyish  laugh,  in  three  little 


TRIXY  123 

swings  which  he  personally  conducted.  Per- 
ceiving the  doctor,  he  called  out : 

"  Ah,  Steele  !  We  are  having  a  beautiful 
time.  You  are  just  in  season  to  enjoy  your- 
self !  " 

Miriam  turned  to  the  doctor  with  a  sweet 
shyness. 

"  I  never  was  so  happy  in  my  life !  "  she 
said.  "  Most  of  these  people  have  n't  got  into 
the  country  all  summer ;  some  of  them  have 
never  seen  it.  I  cannot  explain  to  you  how  it 
makes  me  feel.  Everybody  is  here  —  every- 
body I  asked  !  "  She  spoke  with  the  flattered 
gratification  of  a  hostess  whose  salon  is  filled. 
"  And  Dan  —  and  Dan,  too,"  she  added,  "  and 
Trixy ! " 

The  crippled  lad  was  lying  in  a  hammock 
luxuriously  reading  a  book  on  trained  dogs. 
His  crutch  fell  to  the  grass,  and  Miriam  im- 
pulsively sprang  and  picked  it  up  for  him. 
Dan's  eyes  leaped  to  hers  with  the  worship 
that  deformity  gives  to  beauty,  and  weakness 
to  sympathetic  strength.  Dr.  Steele  watched 
this  little  episode  with  a  puzzled  expression. 

"  I  don't  see  Trixy."  His  gaze  wandered 
about  the  lawn.   "But  then,  I  should  n't  know 


124  TRIXY 

her  if  I  did  see  her.  Is  that  she  ?  "  He  pointed 
to  the  melancholy  mongrel  who  was  regarding 
the  scene  without  enthusiasm. 

"  I  am  ashamed  of  you  !  "  cried  Miss  Lau- 
riat,  laughing,  "not  to  recognize  so  famous 
an  actress !  Trixy  is  in  the  coach  house  with 
Matthew.  That  poor,  old,  plebeian  thing  is  not 
very  clean,  and  Dan  would  n't  let  her  asso- 
ciate with  him.  Trixy,  you  know,  is  an  aristo- 
crat. The  ice  cream  will  be  sent  in  to  her  on 
a  cut-glass  plate." 

"Is  that  gray  dog  one  of  the  invited 
guests  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course.  He  came  out  on  the 
steamer  with  the  rest.  He  has  a  cough  — 
that  poor  woman's  dogs  always  do  —  and  it 
was  expected  to  do  him  good.  He  belongs  to 
the  little  girls  Mr.  Surbridge  is  swinging. 
Come,  Dr.  Steele !  There  are  two  boys  who 
don't  seem  to  be  having  a  very  good  time. 
Would  you  mind  playing  Bear  with  them? 
Or  perhaps  Puss  in  the  Corner.  Or  Wolf  and 
Red  Riding  Hood  ;  or  —  something  !  " 

"I  can  try,"  said  Steele  grimly.  "But  I 
am  not  sure  how  far  I  am  to  be  flattered  by 
your  choice  of  roles." 


TRIXY  125 

"  You  don't  care  for  it,"  said  Miriam  under 
her  breath.  "  You  don't  care  for  it  at  all. 
And  it  makes  me  so  happy  ! " 

"  I  care  for  anything  that  makes  you  happy ; 
you  know  I  do." 

"  Go,  then,"  commanded  Miriam,  "  and  dis- 
cuss the  tariff  with  Cady's  Molly's  father.  It 
needs  a  man  to  entertain  him.  He  has  views 
about  protection  and  free  trade.  The  subject 
is  beyond  my  depth,  and  I  have  never  been 
able  to  keep  up  with  it.  It  requires  a  mascu- 
line intellect." 

Steele  laughed  and  obeyed  her,  awkwardly 
enough.  His  personal  comfort  was  not  en- 
hanced, nor  the  subject  of  the  tariff  advanced, 
by  the  reception  which  he  met. 

"  Oh,  it 's  you  !  "  said  Cady's  Molly's  father. 
"  You  are  the  fellow  that  quarantined  us,  ain't 
you  ?  We  fired  you  once.  I  never  expected 
to  see  you  again." 

Thus  forced  to  feel  his  lack  of  position  in 
slum  society,  conscious  that  he  was  unjustly 
made  to  suffer  for  a  plain  performance  of 
duty,  and  therefore  not  in  the  best  of  hu- 
mors, Dr.  Steele  retreated  from  the  lawn 
party  and  made  his  way  to  the  piazza,  where 


126  TRIXY 

for  an  hour  to  come  he  solemnly  discussed 
with  Mrs.  Jeffries  the  first  arrest  made  by  the 
Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Docking  and 
Cropping.  The  tail  of  a  two  weeks'  puppy 
had  been  cut  off,  and  the  society  had  appealed 
to  the  humane  sentiments  of  the  state,  and 
the  majesty  of  the  law.  Dr.  Steele  did  not 
return  to  the  lawn  party,  which  broke  up 
directly  after  supper. 

In  the  little  stir  consequent  on  the  de- 
parture of  Miss  Lauriat's  guests,  he  stood 
embarrassed  and  apart.  None  of  the  people 
addressed  him,  and  he  was  glad  of  it.  Philip 
Surbridge  went  down  the  avenue  with  the 
consumptive  woman  on  his  arm ;  in  his  other 
he  carried  the  baby,  and  the  three  little  girls 
clung  to  his  coat-tails. 

"  You  're  coming  back,  are  n't  you  ?  " 
pleaded  Mrs.  Jeffries.  "  If  you  don't,  there 
won't  be  anybody  to  talk  to  me." 

"  I  '11  come  out  to  see  you  next  week,"  an- 
swered Surbridge,  with  his  tender  smile.  He 
did  not  meet  Miriam's  eye.  "  I  will  say  good- 
night now.  I  think  I  '11  see  them  all  safely 
back  to  town.  They  are  a  pretty  helpless 
lot." 


TRIXY  127 

This  was  in  an  undertone,  but  Miriam  heard 
it,  and  warmly  held  out  her  hand.  Dr.  Steele 
watched  her  with  compressed  lips.  She  went 
part  way  down  the  avenue  with  Surbridge 
and  the  children.  Dan  Badger  limped  beside 
her  with  Trixy  on  his  neck.  The  sea  wind 
was  shrewish,  and  Trixy  wore  her  little  over- 
coat with  its  hood.  Miss  Lauriat's  poor  people 
clung  to  her  wistfully ;  some  of  them  kissed 
her,  all  blessed  her,  and  then  the  turn  in  the 
avenue  hid  them. 

She  came  back  walking  rather  fast,  breath- 
less and  beautiful.  Steele  went  down  to  meet 
her.  He  had  a  paper  in  his  hand ;  it  was  a 
printer's  proof-sheet. 

"  It  fell  from  your  pocket,"  he  began,  "  as 
you  went  down  the  steps.  Will  you  pardon 
me?  It  was  print,  and  I  did  look  at  it.  I 
did  n't  read  it,  though.  I  did  n't  know  that 
you  wrote." 

Miriam  flushed  and  held  out  her  hand  for 
the  proof-sheet. 

"  Let  me  read  it,  won't  you  ?  "  he  entreated. 

"  As  long  as  you  have  seen  it  —  well  — 
yes.  I  do  not  know  that  I  mind  —  that  is  — 
not  very  much." 


128  TRIXY 

"  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  an  au- 
thoress," observed  Steele. 

"  I  am  not  an  authoress/'  flashed  Miriam, 
"and  no  reading  man  ever  uses  that  word, 
Dr.  Steele.  Let  me  have  my  proof-sheet,  if 
you  please." 

"  Oh,  forgive  me  ! "  cried  Steele.  "  I  am 
always  saying  or  doing  the  wrong  thing." 

"  And  I  am  always  forgiving  you,"  she 
answered  in  an  unsteady  voice. 

Steele  read  the  verses.  There  were  but  two, 
and  they  ran  like  this : 

SONG 

To  the  spaces  between  the  stars 
We  went,  my  love  and  I, 
Among  the  uttermost  things. 
For  my  love  hath  wings; 
With  twain  he  covers  his  face, 
With  twain  his  feet, 
With  twain  he  doth  fly. 

To  the  earth  and  our  rose-red  door, 

We  came,  my  love  and  I. 

Among  the  dear,  daily  things, 

He  folded  his  wings. 

But  the  winged  watch  their  time. 

And  when  he  starts, 

Ah,  how  shall  I  fly  ? 


TRIXY  129 

He  returned  the  proof-sheet  to  her.  "  I 
don't  understand  it,"  he  said  perplexedly. 
"  It  is  graceful,  but  I  don't  think  I  know 
what  you  mean." 

Miriam  put  the  verses  back  in  her  pocket. 

"  Now  your  taste  for  painting,"  began  Dr. 
Steele,  "  that  appeals  to  me.  I  have  never 
lost  my  interest  in  art.  There  are  so  many 
things  that  a  man  does  lose,  you  know.  I 
hope  you  have  not  given  up  whatever  you 
were  doing  at  the  school?  I  like  to  think  of 
you  in  that  peaceful  and  aesthetic  place." 

"  I  have  not  been  there  this  summer,"  said 
Miriam,  in  a  constrained  tone. 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

Miriam  made  no  reply.  Her  attraction  for 
Dr.  Steele  had  now  reached  a  stage  where  she 
was  conscious  of  wishing  to  harmonize  with 
him  in  everything,  and  uncomfortable  when 
she  might  not.  She  could  not  have  explained 
to  herself  why  it  was  that  she  often  found  it 
impossible  to  give  him  a  confidence  which  she 
longed  to  offer.  His  presence  brought  her 
pleasure,  but  not  peace.  He  came  often  ;  the 
summer  passed  dreamily ;  and  she  slowly  be- 
gan to  admit  to  herself  —  but  not  as  yet  to 


130  TRIXY 

him  —  that  he  was  becoming  necessary  to  her. 
As  the  doctor's  visits  increased  in  frequency, 
those  of  the  lawyer  diminished.  Miriam,  who 
had  been  often  beloved,  had  never  counted 
Philip  Surbridge  among  her  suitors,  and  when 
she  found  that  she  missed  him,  felt  quite  at 
liberty  to  tell  him  so. 

Dear  Philip  [she  wrote  one  day]  :  Aunt 
Cornelia  is  playing  Mariana  in  the  Moated 
Grange  for  your  sweet  sake.  I  mind  it  a  little 
myself,  that  you  stay  away. 

Yours  faithfully, 

Miriam  Lauriat. 

Surbridge  responded  to  this  recall,  but  lei- 
surely, and  it  was  the  second  week  in  Septem- 
ber before  he  came  out  to  dme  and  spend  the 
evening.  Miriam  was  unaffectedly  and  heartily 
glad  to  see  him.  He  took  her  out  to  row,  for 
there  was  a  rowing  moon,  and  she  sat  in  the 
stern,  in  her  white  boating  dress,  with  her 
hands  clasped  behind  her  head,  and  looked  at 
him  affectionately. 

He  rowed  well,  and  she  thought  how  square 
his  shoulders  were,  and  how  sturdy  his  arm  — 
for  so  studious  a  man.    The  values  of  his  face 


TRIXY  131 

in  the  strong,  soft  light  were  like  those  of  a 
Reynolds  portrait,  which  had  the  repose  of  an 
earlier,  calmer  age  than  ours.  His  very  pre- 
sence quieted  her ;  it  always  had.  Did  he 
soothe  most  people  in  the  same  way?  She 
sometimes  asked  herself  the  question.  She 
was  conscious  of  that  old  impulse  to  tell  things 
to  Philip  Surbridge.  It  was  not  only  that  he 
belonged  to  one  of  the  confessional  profes- 
sions ;  but  he  had  the  confessor's  temperament. 

As  he  rowed  her  out  from  the  shore  she 
regarded  him  wistfully.  There  were  no  other 
boats  about  them,  and  they  seemed  to  be  quite 
alone  with  the  sea  and  the  sky.  She  thought 
of  that  other  moon-bright  night  when  she  and 
Steele  had  stood  upon  the  shore.  But  she  and 
Surbridge  were  going  straight  out  to  sea. 

"It  is  the  same  sea,  the  same  sky,  the  same 
moon,"  thought  Miriam,  "  but  it 's  not  the 
same  woman." 

They  talked  little  and  lightly,  with  long 
silences  between  their  quiet  words.  She  felt 
a  distinct  relief  from  the  mental  turmoil  of 
the  summer.  For  this  one  hour  it  was  not  per- 
emptory to  decide  anything,  and  she  was 
conscious  of  a  sense  of  reprieve. 


132  TRIXY 

Philip's  boyish  smile  in  itself  was  a  comfort 
to  her,  as  it  always  was,  and  his  dark,  mute 
eyes  seemed  to  protect  her  from  herself.  He 
did  not  urge  her  confidence  ;  indeed,  she  was 
half  aware  that  he  fended  it  off. 

To  Miriam,  as  to  all  high-minded  girls,  love 
had  always  seemed  to  be  a  demonstrable  thing ; 
it  never  occurred  to  her  that  she  could  have 
any  doubts  about  it  when  she  should  experience 
it,  or  that  she  could  cast  up  the  divine  sum  of 
her  happiness  in  more  than  one  inevitable  way. 
Love  was  inexorable,  in  a  sense  mathematical ; 
it  was  of  the  celestial  sciences ;  it  would  be 
eternal,  like  the  ordering  of  the  stars,  and  she 
should  follow  its  commands  — brain  and  heart, 
soul  and  body,  will  and  imagination  —  as  the 
sea  follows  the  moon.  She  was  bewildered  by 
the  perturbation  in  which  she  had  passed  the 
last  six  months.  If  she  had  obeyed  her  mad- 
dest impulse,  she  would  have  cried  out  like  a 
distressed  girl  to  her  elder  brother : 

"Philip!  Philip!  What  shall  I  do?"  But 
in  point  of  fact  she  said  no  such  thing. 

"You  are  looking  tired,"  Surbridge  ob- 
served quietly  ;  but  that  was  all. 

"I  am  tired,"  Miriam  passionately  exclaimed 


TRIXY  133 

—  as  if  he  could  help  it ;  as  if  she  expected 
him  to. 

She  held  out  her  hands  to  him  girlishly. 

"  If  I  thought  I  could  really  do  anything  "  — 
began  Surb ridge,  laying  down  his  oars.  His 
manner  had  changed,  and  his  tone,  which  at 
first  was  but  gently  troubled,  rose  into  the 
ring  of   acute   feeling.    "  But  you  must  see 

—  you    cannot   help   understanding.    It 's  — 
hard  ! " 

"  Look  out  there  ! "  interrupted  Miriam. 
"  The  steamer  !  You  are  getting  into  her 
wake ! " 

Surbridge,  veering  sharply,  skillfully  escaped 
the  serpent  of  foam  which  had  begun  to  coil 
about  their  little  rocking  boat,  as  the  steamer 
from  the  city  passed  them  on  her  last  trip 
out.  Both  looked  up  at  the  crowded  deck. 
An  undersized  lad,  who  was  leaning  over  the 
rail,  seemed  to  be  making  an  effort  to  attract 
their  attention. 

"  Why,  there  's  Dan  Badger ! "  cried  Miriam 
quickly.  "  Look  —  look  at  his  face.  Row  me 
ashore,  please.    Quick  !   As  fast  as  you  can  !  " 

Surbridge  rowed  rapidly  and  powerfully  ; 
he  beached  the  boat  on  a  little  cove  below 


134  TRIXY 

the  wharf  at  which  the  steamer  was  somewhat 
slowly  and  clumsily  making  a  landing.  She 
was  late,  and  would  put  about  immediately 
on  her  return  trip.  Miriam  jumped  from  the 
dory  and  ran  up  the  bank  without  waiting 
for  Surbridge.  As  soon  as  he  could  secure  his 
boat  he  hurried  after  her. 

The  crippled  lad  stood  leaning  on  his  crutch. 
He  was  trying  to  speak,  but  his  words  came 
thickly.  His  face  was  gray  and  pinched,  like 
that  of  a  little  old  man,  and  he  shook  from 
head  to  foot.  Dan  had  neither  eaten  nor  slept 
for  twenty-four  hours. 

"  Where 's  Trixy  ?  Where 's  Trixy  ?  "  Miriam 
was  saying  over  and  over. 

Dan  stared  at  her  stupidly  as  if  he  did  not 
understand  what  she  said. 

"  Come,  Dan,"  urged  Surbridge  very  gen- 
tly, "  tell  us  all  about  it." 

With  a  gesture  never  to  be  forgotten  by 
those  who  witnessed  it,  the  cripple  dropped 
his  crutch  and  threw  both  hands  above  his 
head,  as  one  does  in  unendurable  physical 
pain. 

"  Trixy 's  lost !  " 

"  No  !  No  !  No  !  "  cried  Miriam. 


TRIXY  135 

"  Not  stolen  ?  "  exclaimed  Surbridge. 

But  Dan  repeated  dully  :  "  Trixy  's  lost.  I 
tell  you  Trixy  's  lost.  I  've  hunted  for  her 
every wheres.  Everybody 's  hunted.  Nobody 
can't  find  her." 

"  Give  me  the  circumstances,"  urged  Sur- 
bridge, "  if  you  can.  Tell  me  when  it  hap- 
pened, and  where.  Try,  Dan.  Think  how  it 
was." 

"  I  can't,"  muttered  Dan,  "  my  —  my  head 
won't  let  me.  It  was  last  nig-ht  —  she  had  on 
her  little  coat  you  made  her,  Miss  Laurie  — 
it  was  sort  of  cold  —  and  we  'd  been  playing 
at  one  of  them  beaches  —  I  can't  think  the 
name  —  my  head  is  bad.  We  was  jest  goin' 
home  —  you  never  see  her  play  so  pretty  — 
I  put  her  clown  —  I  —  think  I  put  her  down, 
and  when  I  looked  she  was  n't  there.  I  tried 
to  hurry,  but  I  'm  lame,  you  know.  She  was  n't 
there.  — Sir?" 

For  the  first  time  since  he  had  known  her, 
Dan,  disregarding  his  goddess,  turned  else- 
where for  divine  interference ;  it  was  as  if 
he  felt  that  his  extremity  was  a  matter  be- 
tween men. 

"  Mr.  Surbridge,  sir,"  said  Dan,  "  you  told 


136  TRIXY 

me  once  if  ever  me  and  Trixy  needed  a  friend, 
to  count  on  you.    So  here  I  be." 

"  Come  with  me,  Dan."  Surbridge  caught 
the  boy  quickly,  for  Dan  swayed  and  tot- 
tered. "  Come  !  The  boat  starts  right  away. 
I  will  go  back  to  town  with  you." 

"  And,  Dan  !  "  cried  Miriam,  "  listen  to  me. 
I  'm  sure  Mr.  Surbridge  will  find  her.  Do  you 
hear  me?  Sure.  Mr.  Surbridge  always  finds 
everything  that  he  tries  to." 

She  put  her  arm  around  the  lad's  neck,  and 
kissed  him  and  patted  him,  thinking  no  more 
of  the  people  on  the  wharf  than  if  they  had 
been  starfish  on  the  rocks. 

She  and  Philip  grasped  hands.  He  did  not 
even  ask  how  she  was  going  to  find  her  way 
home  without  him,  nor  did  she  like  him  the 
less  for  that. 

She  stood  on  the  wharf  watching  the  steamer 
till  it  reeled  out  of  sight.  Once  Philip  lifted 
his  hat.  He  was  tenderly  enfolding  the  boy, 
whose  face  was  hidden  against  the  young  man's 
heart. 

"  Dan  is  crying  in  his  arms,"  thought  Miriam. 


CHAPTER    VII 

Among  the  worlds  of  woe  allotted  to  sentient 
life,  there  is  one  which  hangs  quite  apart 
from  the  rest  of  the  system,  and  holds  a  place 
unique  in  the  astronomy  of  pain  ;  this  may 
be  called  the  world  of  the  lost  dog.  In  this 
alone  the  human  and  the  animal  can  strictly 
be  said  to  suffer  together.  In  other  catastro- 
phes shared  by  the  higher  and  the  lower  races, 
each  endures  or  perishes  thinking  of  his  own 
pang.  When  fate  separates  master  and  dog, 
each  undergoes  the  pang  of  the  other.  It  has 
been  well  written  that  the  dog  is  the  only 
animal  who  has  elected  to  give  himself  ut- 
terly to  the  worship  of  man  ;  and  man,  to  a 
certain  extent,  has  returned  this  profound  and 
pathetic  attachment.  It  cannot  be  claimed  that 
he  has  done  this  on  even  terms.  "  Dogs," 
said  a  student  of  the  species,  "  have  the  grand- 
est of  created  qualities :  love,  gratitude,  and 
fidelity."  But  the  man,  though  he  may  never 
love  as  nobly  as  his   dog,  has  requited   the 


138  TEIXY 

touching  devotion  that  he  receives  with  an 
affection  which  cannot  be  duplicated  in  the 
range  of  human  feeling. 

Dan  haunted  the  streets,  the  wharves,  the 
steamers,  the  stations,  the  beaches,  the  ken- 
nels, the  saloons,  as  a  little  crippled  ghost 
might  shadow  the  scenes  of  his  former  life. 
His  face  and  figure  had  acquired  such  a  look 
that  happy  people  shrank  from  him,  and  the 
careless  of  heart  avoided  him.  He  had  s:rown 
as  silent  as  an  insomniac ;  he  slept  little,  and 
ate  less.  The  grasp  of  Mr.  Surbridge's  hand, 
the  tears  on  Miss  Lauriat's  cheeks  were  more 
than  he  could  bear ;  the  lad  crawled  away 
into  his  anguish  as  some  little  blind  mole, 
mortally  hurt,  crawls  into  a  hole  where  it 
cannot  be  found.  All  day  he  searched  —  and 
searched.  All  night  he  lay  pondering  where 
he  should  search  to-morrow. 

More  than  once  Cady's  Molly's  father  tip- 
toed in  and  found  him  with  wide  eyes,  staring 
at  the  ceiling  of  his  narrow  bedroom.  The 
lad  lay  far  over  at  one  side  of  the  cot,  with 
his  feet  drawn  up,  as  he  was  accustomed  to 
do  to  give  the  little  dog  room.  His  ragged 
coat  with  which  he  used  to  cover  Trixy  was 


TRIXY  139 

folded  in  its  place.  Sometimes  lie  dreamed 
that  she  was  there,  and  his  thin  hand  stole 
down  to  pat  her.  Cady's  Molly's  father  hap- 
pened once  to  see  this  touching  action,  and  the 
big  fellow  came  away  blubbering  like  a  boy. 

Trixy  had  whirled  out  of  sight  as  utterly 
as  a  feather  caught  by  a  cyclone;  and  into 
the  fate  of  this  little  creature  the  human  lives 
whose  story  it  is  ours  to  tell  were  inextri- 
cably drawn.  Only  this  could  be  said  in  palli- 
ation of  Dan's  misery,  that  he  was  not  left  to 
bear  it  alone.  The  bereaved  lad  was  carried 
through  it  with  a  tenderness  and  a  fidelity 
finer  than  that  which  most  men  and  women 
offer  their  own  flesh  and  blood.  Nothing  that 
wisdom  or  power,  sweetness  or  light,  could  do 
for  him  was  denied  to  the  afflicted  lad.  Miss 
Lauriat  poured  out  money  upon  the  search 
for  Trixy  as  if  she  had  no  other  earthly  uses 
for  it,  and  Philip  Surbridge  threw  his  profes- 
sional skill  and  experience  at  the  feet  of  Dan's 
extremity  with  a  large,  reckless  generosity 
characteristic  of  the  man. 

At  the  outset  Miriam  had  made  it  plain 
that  she  wished  to  retain  her  attorney  in 
Dan's  behalf.    With  a  naive  confidence  in  the 


140  TRIXY 

law,  born  of  confidence  in  the  lawyer,  she  had 
directed  him  : 

"  Spare  nothing,  and  spare  nobody,  but 
find  that  dog." 

"  I  '11  find  Trixy  if  she  is  alive ;  but  I  can- 
not take  your  money  for  it,"  said  Surbridge 
unexpectedly. 

Miriam,  as  unexpectedly,  flushed.  "  I  can- 
not see  why.  The  time  —  the  trouble  —  the 
skill,  and  you  "  — 

But  Surbridge  took  fire. 

"  Yes,  I  know  I  do  for  other  things ;  but 
for  this  I  can't,  and  I  won't.  Dan  retained 
me  before  you  did." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Miriam,  "  have  it  your 
own  way,  then.    But  —  Philip  "  — 

"  But  what  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  hear  every- 
thing, is  it  ?  I  know  just  how  that  sounds," 
she  faltered.  "  I  don't  expect  anybody  to 
understand.  But  most  people  don't  feel  as  I 
do  about  —  you  know,  since  "  — 

Philip  looked  at  her  compassionately. 

"  I  wish  you  could  outlive  that !  —  No,  you 
shall  not  be  worried.  Trust  me,  and  leave  it 
all  to  me." 


TRIXY  141 

This  was  a  favorite  phrase  of  Philip's. 
Miriam  had  heard  it  —  how  many  times  in  how 
many  troubles !  "  Leave  it  all  to  me."  She 
had  always  found  it  natural  to  leave  every- 
thing to  him.  Like  a  sister  she  had  leaned, 
like  a  brother  he  had  guarded.  She  took  their 
unemotional  relation  as  a  matter  of  course. 

In  the  agitation  consequent  upon  the  loss 
of  Trixy,  Miriam  seemed  like  a  person  whose 
emotion  is  strained  with  a  tension  dispropor- 
tionate to  the  disturbing  cause.  The  poise  of 
her  perfect  nerve  shook  a  little,  and  she  be- 
came uncertain  of  movement,  and  moody  of 
impulse.  At  the  first  announcement  of  Dan's 
calamity  she  would  have  closed  her  house  at 
the  shore  and  moved  back  to  town.  But  Mrs. 
Jeffries,  who  had  no  moods,  few  whims,  and 
inexorable  habits,  could  see  no  reason  why 
the  household  should  leave  the  coast  four 
weeks  too  soon  because  a  boy  in  the  slums 
had  lost  his  dog.  Miriam,  therefore,  took 
Maggie  and  the  old  seamstress,  opened  the 
town  house,  and  vibrated  restlessly  between 
the  two  homes.  It  seemed  to  her  impossible 
not  to  be  near  the  scene  of  Dan's  misery ;  yet 
when  she  was  there,  it  seemed  impossible  to 


142  TRIXY 

bear  it.  For  days  she  would  leave  the  lad's 
affairs  entirely  to  Surbridge,  herself  falling 
into  a  silence  that  was  not  broken  by  a  ques- 
tion. At  other  times  she  brooded  over  the  boy 
more  tenderly  than  his  mother  would  have 
done,  if  Dan  had  known  one,  and  dwelt  upon 
his  bereavement  as  if  it  had  been  her  own. 
From  this  too  sensitive  sympathy  she  would 
wince  away  like  a  wounded  nerve,  and  occupy 
herself  with  anything  and  everything  except 
the  disappearance  of  Trixy.  She  was,  in  fact, 
overwrought,  and  not  altogether  reasonable. 
Afterwards — long  afterwards  —  she  perceived 
what  at  the  time  she  was  quite  unconscious  of, 
that  this  unnatural  condition  gave  a  subtle 
deflection  to  her  own  lot.  It  threw  her  more 
than  usual  into  the  society  of  Olin  Steele  ;  and 
the  young  professor  did  not  talk  about  lost 
dogs.  He  had  expressed  his  regret  for  Dan's 
affliction  in  language  that  he  felt  would  appeal 
to  the  excessive  sympathy  which  he  perceived 
Miss  Lauriat  to  be  cherishing.  It  was  a  re- 
lief to  him  that  she  evidently  preferred  not 
to  discuss  the  matter,  and  thereafter  he  tact- 
fully avoided  it.  One  day  he  happened  to 
say: 


TRIXY  143 

"  I  lost  Barry  once.  He  was  gone  a  week. 
I  had  the  whole  state  looking  for  him." 

Miss  Lauriat  received  this  remark  in  silence 
so  unlike  herself  that  he  looked  at  her  shrewdly. 
He  was  not  naturally  patient  with  inattention 
to  what  he  chose  to  say.  Some  day,  he  thought, 
he  would  ask  her  what  she  meant  by  it. 

Some  day  —  ah,  that  day  !  As  God  lived, 
he  swore,  its  sun  should  rise  and  set.  In  the 
magic  of  its  haze,  in  the  marvel  of  its  splen- 
dor, she  should  be  his.  Oh,  and  willingly ! 
Yes,  and  joyfully.  For  his  love  had  grown 
fastidious,  epicurean.  At  the  first,  as  he  had 
told  himself,  he  meant  to  win  her  "  anyhow." 
Now,  this  would  not  content  him.  She  —  no 
subject  that  he  should  seize  her  against  her 
own  heart's  will  —  she,  the  strongest  and  ten- 
derest  woman  whom  he  had  ever  known  — 
she,  out  of  whose  strength  came  her  sweetness, 
and  whose  capacity  for  love  he  knew  that  no 
heart  had  measured  —  she  should  come  to  him 
like  any  lesser  woman,  yielding,  and  glad  to 
yield.  Oh,  she  should  crave  him  —  as  he,  her. 
She  should  hunger  and  thirst  for  his  love  as  he 
had  hungered  and  thirsted  —  and  maddened 
and  waited  —  for  hers. 


144  TRIXY 

He  pursued  his  suit  with  the  ardor  of  an 
oriental  despot,  and  the  tactics  of  an  occiden- 
tal diplomat.  He  knew  he  was  gaining  upon 
her  defenses  ;  he  made  havoc  with  her  reluc- 
tance ;  he  antedated  his  triumphs  in  a  delirium 
of  victory  the  mightier  because  it  was  con- 
trolled and  unexpressed,  and  already  he  flaunted 
banners  in  his  own  heart. 

Miriam  treated  him  with  a  guarded  sweet- 
ness which  at  times  took  on  the  tint  of  tender- 
ness, and  at  others  deepened  into  reserve 
amounting  almost  to  rebuff.  Then  she  would 
pause  again,  and  seem  to  wait  and  look  at  him 
over  her  shoulder.  It  could  not  be  said  that 
as  yet  she  experienced  either  peace  or  joy ; 
but  she  was  now  conscious  of  living  in  a  world 
apart  with  Olin  Steele. 

It  has  long  been  one  of  the  psychological 
mysteries  that  a  delicately  reared  and  finely 
fibred  woman  may  idealize  a  man  of  coarser 
grain  and  manifestly  lower  moral  nature.  Even 
an  infatuation  for  brute  force  may  possess  an 
otherwise  clear-headed  and  true-hearted  wo- 
man. Call  such  emotional  defectives;  from  their 
lineage  Miriam  Lauriat's  was  by  the  heaven's 
width   removed ;    yet  was   she  subtly   swept 


TRIXY  145 

within  the  extended  shadow  of  that  unhappy 
fate?  Sheer  physical  perfection  did  not  in- 
terest her.  If  she  had  been  thrown  solitary 
upon  some  planet  with  a  low-browed,  dull- 
minded  gladiator,  he  would  not  have  attracted 
her  in  any  sense  of  the  word.  But  to  intel- 
lectual athletics  she  was  very  sensitive,  and 
this  kind  of  prowess  she  felt  in  Steele.  His 
well-trained  mind,  his  large  learning,  his  pro- 
fessional preeminence,  commanded  her.  In  his 
department  he  was  a  scholar ;  in  conversation 
he  was  stimulating,  in  manner  finished,  in 
character  without  reproach;  and  in  the  diffi- 
cult art  of  courtship  he  was  without  fear.  In 
love  he  would  take  no  denial.  He  surrounded 
her  with  a  sense  of  power  more  dangerous  to 
her  because  more  fine  than  the  kind  of  domi- 
nation to  which  a  weaker  woman  yields. 

Miriam  was  besieged  by  his  determination. 
She  had  begun  to  feel  that  she  had  no  escape 
from  the  strategy  of  a  love  that  was  all  will, 
and  of  a  will  that  had  become  all  love. 

"I  suppose  you  know,"  said  Philip  Sur- 
bridge  one  day,  "  I  suppose  you  understand  — 
pardon  me  —  what  Olin  Steele  is  ?  " 

Surbridge  turned  very  pale  as  he  uttered 


146  TRIXY 

these  words.  They  seemed  to  be  forced  from 
his  lips  by  a  deliberate  and  solemn  purpose, 
that  he  would  have  concealed,  if  he  could,  in 
an  incidental  manner. 

Miriam  lifted  her  chin  with  that  pretty, 
haughty  motion  which  Philip  so  seldom  saw. 

"  Why,  everybody  knows.  He  is  professor 
at  Galen.  He  is  at  the  head  of  one  of  the 
most  important  departments  in  the  school." 

She  brought  these  sentences  out  with  little 
dents  between  as  if  she  had  bitten  them. 

"  But  you  know,"  Philip  hesitated,  "  you 
know  what  he  teaches  ?  You  know  what  he 
does  ?  " 

"He  teaches  physiology,"  said  Miriam 
proudly.  "  It  is  the  basis  of  all  medical  edu- 
cation. I  understand  he  teaches  it  thoroughly 
and  brilliantly." 

Philip  looked  at  her  in  silence.  There  was 
a  certain  compassion  in  his  eyes  which  hers 
instantly  resented. 

"  Is  there  anything  new  about  Trixy  ?  " 
she  asked  abruptly.    "  Any  more  clues  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  new  one.  And  there  may  be  some- 
thing in  it.  I  came  to  say  so,  but  I  see  you 
don't  wish  to  hear  about  it  this  morning." 


TRIXY  147 

"I  will  hear  it  to-morrow,"  answered  Miriam 
nervously.    u  Tell  me  all  about  it  to-morrow." 

But  to-morrow  when  he  came  to  tell  her, 
she  had  gone  to  the  shore ;  and  Steele  had 
followed  her.  Maggie  handed  Surbridge  a 
hurried  note  which  had  been  left  at  the  town 
house  for  him. 

Dear  Philip  [it  said]  :  I  am  tired  out 
and  nervous,  and  I  am  gone  to  spend  a 
couple  of  days  with  Aunt  Cornelia.  Telephone 
if  I  am  needed.  It  occurs  to  me  that  if  you 
have  a  new  clue  you  may  need  to  increase 
your  detective  force.  I  inclose  a  signed  check, 
which  you  will  please  fill  out  to  any  extent 
that  the  expenses  of  the  search  for  Trixy  may 
require.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  I  feel  about 
what  you  are  doing,  and  the  way  in  which  you 
are  doing  it.  All  I  can  say  is  that  it 's  just 
like  you.  I  am  a  good  deal  worried  about 
some  other  matters,  and  I  must  leave  it  all 
to  you.  How  many  times  in  my  life  I  have 
done  that  ! 

I  am  always  your  grateful  and  faithful 
Miriam  Lauriat. 


148  TRIXY 

There  was  no  moon,  and  the  early  Septem- 
ber dark  had  shut  in  softly.  The  sky  was 
lightly  clouded,  with  only  here  and  there  a  star. 
The  black  gulf  of  the  sea  lay  sheer  below  the 
piazza,  and  the  rising  tide  reverberated  against 
the  cliff  which  rose  straight  as  the  side  of  a 
canon.  In  fact,  the  broad  piazza  overlapped 
the  water,  and  one  had  the  sense  of  hanging 
in  mid-air  above  the  abyss.  The  night  was 
warm,  the  wind  southerly,  and  the  surf  heavy. 

Miriam  and  Steele  sat  side  by  side  in  the 
screened,  half-lighted  place.  The  long,  un- 
shaded windows  revealed  Aunt  Cornelia  read- 
ing by  a  lamp  with  a  blue  globe  that  lent  to 
her  face  the  ghastly  effect  which  it  is  given 
only  to  this  particular  species  of  domestic  art 
to  offer.  In  fact,  it  seemed  to  color  the  shaft 
of  light  that  lay  across  the  piazza ;  this  had  a 
sickly  tint  like  light  blue  marble.  It  made 
Miriam  uncomfortable,  and  she  moved  into 
the  shadow.  Steele  immediately  followed,  tak- 
ing a  piazza  chair  directly  in  front  of  her. 
She  stirred  uneasily,  and  made  as  if  she  would 
lean  over  the  railing  of  the  piazza,  but  the 
galvanized  wire  netting  prevented.  She  drew 
back  impatiently. 


TKIXY  149 

"  These  screens  keep  the  mosquitoes  out  — 
but  the  comfort,  too.  What 's  the  use  of  a 
piazza  that  you  can't  look  over  ?  I  feel  as  if 
I  were  in  a  cage." 

"  And  so  you  are,"  said  Olin  Steele. 

When  Miriam  looked  up  and  saw  his  face, 
half  black  in  the  shadow,  half  pale  in  the  cold 
light,  every  drop  of  red  blood  deserted  her  own. 

"  Why  did  you  come  to-night  ? "  she 
pleaded.    "  I  did  not  expect  you." 

"  Why  did  you  try  to  escape  me  ?  "  he  de- 
manded.   "  I  do  not  permit  you." 

Miriam's  chin  rose  instinctively  with  its 
haughty  motion. 

"  I  have  given  you  no  right  to  speak  to  me 
like  that ! " 

"  No,"  he  said  firmly,  "  but  you  are  going 
to  give  it  to  me." 

He  was  obliged  to  speak  very  distinctly,  or 
the  roar  of  the  surf  would  have  quenched  his 
voice.  Ten  feet  away  nothing  they  said  could 
have  been  heard.  They  were  shut  apart  in 
the  raffe  of  wind  and  wave. 

"  I  have  waited  till  I  can  wait  no  more,"  he 
said  desperately.  "  You  have  played  with  me 
as  long  as  I  can  bear  it." 


150  TRIXY 

"  I  have  never  played  with  you  !  "  cried 
Miriam. 

"  Well,  defied  me,  then  ;  it  is  the  same  thing. 
I  have  resolved  to  end  it.    My  misery  "  — 

"  Are  you  miserable  ?  "  asked  Miriam,  with 
unexpected  tenderness.  "  I  don't  want  to 
make  you  —  unhappy." 

"I  know  you  don't,"  said  Steele,  "because 
you  love  me." 

Miriam  flung  her  hands  up  against  the 
screen ;  he  thought  how  well  she  had  spoken 
when  she  called  it  a  cage.  Her  whole  being 
seemed  to  beat  upon  it.  She  looked  like  a 
creature  entrapped. 

"You  love  me,"  he  insisted,  "only  you  won't 
own  it.  You  won't  own  it  to  yourself  —  or 
to  me." 

Miriam's  forehead  fell  against  the  metal 
netting.  She  felt  the  spray  from  the  gulf  fifty 
feet  below  upon  her  face.  "  Oh,  perhaps  I 
do,"  she  sighed,  "  perhaps  I  do." 

The  noise  of  the  surf  was  so  great  that 
Steele  could  not  be  sure  he  had  distinctly  un- 
derstood her.  His  heart  throbbed  in  his  body 
as  the  waves  throbbed  on  the  rocks  ;  his  brain 
hammered  on  his  temples. 


TRIXY  151 

"  Let  me  hear  it !  "  he  cried.  "  Let  me  hear 
it  again." 

Miriam  lifted  her  head  and  raised  her  eyes. 
In  them  he  might  have  seen  the  infinite  sad- 
ness with  which  a  woman  yields  to  a  powerful 
but  imperfect  love.  "  Perhaps  I  do,"  she  re- 
peated,   "lam  afraid  I  do." 

As  the  waves  to  the  shore  Steele  turned 
towards  her.  Her  soft  shoulder  quivered  be- 
neath his  arm.  She  felt  his  breath  on  her 
cheek.    Then  Miriam  shrank. 

"  Oh,  no  !  Not  now  !  Not  yet !  I  can't  — 
Not  yet  —  not  yet !  " 

In  a  moment,  without  seeming  to  repel,  she 
had  eluded  him.  So  mystery  eludes  science, 
so  the  spirit  escapes  the  body.  Trembling  and 
white  she  leaned  against  the  fine,  invisible 
bars  of  the  narrowing  space  in  which  they 
stood  together.  She  regarded  him  solemnly. 
There  was  that  in  her  eyes  before  which  Steele 
felt  his  head  grow  light ;  but  he  could  no 
more  have  touched  her  than  he  could  have 
torn  the  sphinx  from  the  desert. 

"  Next  time  !  "  she  entreated.  "  Perhaps 
next  time." 

Steele's  outstretched  arms  fell. 


152  TRIXY 

"  I  shall  reprieve  you/'  he  said  very  slowly, 
"  till  next  time." 

Now,  Miriam,  wincing  from  these  words,  yet 
leaning  to  them,  hid  her  face  upon  her  hands, 
and  when  she  lifted  it  he  had  left  her. 

"  That  was  merciful,"  she  thought,  and  the 
tide  of  her  tenderness  for  the  man  rose  by 
one  of  the  abrupt  and  powerful  waves  below 
whose  high- water  line,  if  the  laws  of  feeling 
are  not  intercepted,  a  woman's  love  will  not 
ebb.  Sensitively  craving  solitude,  she  opened 
the  screen  door  that  led  from  the  piazza  to 
the  garden,  and,  hardly  knowing  what  she 
did,  or  why  she  did  it,  paced  to  and  fro  alone 
with  wild  feet  among  the  frosted  flowers.  The 
nasturtiums  and  salvia  were  still  alive,  and 
since  she  brushed  and  bruised  them,  they 
splashed  her  white  woolen  dress  with  red  petals 
that  clung  to  it. 

But  when,  an  hour  later,  she  went  into  the 
house,  she  found  Aunt  Cornelia  excited  and 
annoyed.  Philip  Surbridge  had  been  ringing 
at  the  telephone  ever  since  Dr.  Steele  went 
away.  "  And  I  told  him  you  had  probably 
jumped  into  the  ocean,  for  I  could  not  find 
you  high  or  low." 


TRIXY  153 

"And  what,"  Miriam  inquired  absently, 
"did  Philip  say?" 

"  He  said  :  '  When  she  jumps  out  again 
tell  her  I  called  her  up  on  a  matter  of  some 
importance,  but  she  's  not  to  mind ;  she  can 
leave  it  all  to  me.'    And  I  must  say,  Miriam  "  — 

But  Miriam  did  not  stay  to  hear  what  Aunt 
Cornelia  must  say. 

In  the  city  the  September  night  was  sad 
and  sultry,  and  Surbridge,  who  had  hurried 
back  to  his  rooms  after  his  ineffectual  effort 
to  consult  Miriam  by  telephone,  flung  open 
the  window  and  leaned  out  a  little  over  the 
sill  for  a  breath  of  such  air  as  there  was.  As 
he  did  so  he  heard  the  thud,  thudding  of  a 
rubber-tipped  crutch  upon  the  sidewalk,  and 
the  uneven  sound  of  a  crippled  foot  trailing 
with  it.  Both  stopped  directly  beneath  his 
window. 

"  Mr.  Surbridge,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Dan,  yes,  —  anything  more  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  've  found  —  Oh,  sir  !  "  Dan 
stood  choking.  Terrible  sobs  tore  the  words 
out  of  the  lad's  throat.  He  held  up  something 
in  his  shaking  hands. 


154  TRIXY 

"  I  can't  see,  Dan.  Don't  try  to  come  up  ! 
It 's  two  flights  —  I  will  come  down." 

Surbridge  ran  down  and  out  upon  the  side- 
walk.   Dan  stood  staring  at  him. 

"  I  've  come  —  to  count  on  —  you,"  gasped 
the  boy.  With  a  feeble  moan  as  if  his  own 
life  were  gashed  out  of  him  from  a  severed 
artery,  Dan  laid  across  Surbridge' s  arm  a  little 
dog's  coat  of  blue  flannel,  soiled  and  stained 
and  torn.  Part  of  the  embroidered  name  on 
the  coat  had  been  worn  off  or  cut  off ;  but 
some  of  the  stitches  were  left  where  the  let- 
tering had  been,  and  by  the  street  lamp  Sur- 
bridge plainly  read : 


IXY 


CHAPTER  VIII 

The  night,  which  was  warm  at  the  shore,  and 
sultry  in  the  city,  was  stifling  in  the  labora- 
tory. The  windows  were  closed.  This  was 
found  desirable  because  complaints  had  arisen 
in  the  neighborhood  of  occasional  strange 
sounds  that  seemed  to  come  from  the  school 
of  science.  It  was  rumored  that  protests  from 
the  art  school  had  taken  shape ;  that  the  hot- 
headed old  signor  had  complained  of  some- 
thing affecting  the  nerves  of  his  pupils.  In 
the  rear  of  the  medical  building  was  a  hospi- 
tal, and  during  the  hot  weather  when  windows 
were  open,  patients  had  described  to  their 
nurses  and  doctors  signs  of  animal  distress 
which  now  and  then  disturbed  the  human 
sick. 

The  medical  school  of  Galen  was  an  an- 
cient and  independent  institution,  not  affiliated 
with  a  university.  All  that  age,  endowment, 
and  intellectual  prestige  could  bestow  was  at 
the  command  of  this  powerful  scientific  centre. 


156  TRIXY 

Its  alumni  could  be  found  throughout  the 
civilized  world,  and  cherished  a  remarkably 
strong  attachment  to  their  school.  They  were 
ready  to  defend  her  as  most  men  defend  their 
country's  flag,  through  evil  report  and  good, 
were  she  right  or  were  she  wrong.  Among 
the  graduates  (and  especially,  let  it  be  noted, 
among  the  elder  men  belonging  to  an  earlier 
day,  before  modern  physiology  had  begun  to 
control  the  curriculum)  were  to  be  found  many 
of  the  noblest  representatives  of  the  medical 
profession  —  men  of  aspiration,  self-denial,  and 
consecration ;  men  on  whom  the  sick  leaned, 
and  whom  the  dying  trusted;  men  whom  wo- 
men honored,  and  children  loved,  and  the 
poor  blessed ;  men  who  hesitated  at  no  sacri- 
fice, halted  at  no  danger,  and  who  would  hurl 
away  their  own  lives  without  a  thought,  to 
save  a  patient.  These  men,  too  busy  in  heal- 
ing the  sick  to  inflict  the  ingenuities  of  a  de- 
cadent science  upon  small,  speechless  creatures, 
thought  little  and  knew  less  about  what  was 
going  on  in  the  fastnesses  of  their  own  medical 
school.  Yet,  the  moment  when  her  fair  fame 
should  be  touched,  they  would  spring  to  her 
defense    like    soldiers    blindly   following  the 


TRIXY  157 

colors  through  a  fight  in  a  fog.  So  widely 
scattered  and  so  deeply  united  were  the  alumni 
of  this  celebrated  school  that  they  carried  its 
powerful  influence  everywhere,  and  sustained 
in  the  public  mind  a  respect  for  the  institution 
amounting  to  idealization.  Among  the  first  to 
recognize  and  respond  to  this  pervasive  influ- 
ence had  been  the  men  of  fortune.  A  multi- 
millionaire, who  had  devoted  his  superfluous 
thousands  for  some  years  to  the  endowment 
of  societies  for  the  prevention  of  cruelty  to 
animals,  one  summer  day  upon  a  yachting 
cruise  fell  under  the  beguiling  influence  of 
the  old  professor  of  physiology  at  Galen 
—  since  gathered  to  his  fate  in  a  world  where 
he  may  look  long  for  a  congenial  occupation. 
The  result  was  that  Galen,  although,  as  we 
say,  a  very  ancient  school,  had  a  very  modern 
building.  This  —  a  gift  outright  from  the 
philanthropic  capitalist  who  had  devoted  him- 
self hitherto  to  the  interests  of  animals  —  was 
new  from  roof  to  cellar.  It  was  not  intended 
necessarily  to  be  a  replica  of  other  buildings 
of  its  kind.  The  old  professor  had  full  swing, 
and  had  carried  into  execution  some  ideas  of 
his  own. 


158  TRIXY 

The  first  floor  of  the  school  was  given  up 
to  the  lecture-rooms,  offices,  and  so  on,  and 
to  the  physiological  laboratory.  This  was  sep- 
arated from  the  lecture-room  which  we  shall 
call  the  amphitheatre  by  a  short  passageway, 
and  by  double  and  deadened  walls.  Every  de- 
vice that  the  modern  building  art  could  offer 
for  the  dulling  of  sound  had  been  employed. 
Floors  and  ceilings  were  tremendously  thick, 
and  heavily  lined  with  mineral  wool.  In  the 
basement  of  the  building  the  unhappy  crea- 
tures who  furnished  the  material  for  experi- 
mental physiology  were  confined.  The  room 
where  the  dumb  prisoners  were  incarcerated 
was  in  a  wing ;  some  of  its  windows  looked  upon 
a  yard  that  separated  it  from  the  hospital. 

This  lower  room  could  be  reached  in  several 
ways  ;  for  instance,  by  two  flights  of  stairs  — 
one  running  from  the  physiological  labora- 
tory—  and  by  a  corridor  that  led  out  to  the 
rear  of  the  building.  This  corridor,  which 
ramified  in  more  than  one  direction,  led  to  a 
low  door  (one  of  several  exits)  somewhat  hid- 
den from  observation  by  a  porch  or  balcony 
whose  purpose  seemed  to  be  ornamental  only. 
This  door,  which  opened  upon  an  alle}r,  was 


TRIXY  159 

used  by  the  janitor  and  laboratory  assistants. 
Most  of  the  students  knew  nothing  of  its  ex- 
istence, and  a  casual  passer  would  not  have 
noticed  it.  The  corridor  of  which  mention  has 
been  made  contained  two  closets ;  one  was 
used  for  the  disposal  of  brooms,  mops,  snow- 
shovels,  pails,  and  so  on  ;  another  for  hanging 
coats  and  hats.  This  latter  closet  was  not  far 
from  the  low  door  of  which  we  have  spoken. 

It  was  now  eleven  o'clock.  In  the  hospital 
the  sick  slept,  or  prayed  that  they  might  do 
so  before  dawn.  In  the  school  of  the  arts 
the  silent  studio,  at  night  given  over  to  the 
shades  and  shapes  of  beautiful  things,  aroused 
slowly  to  the  consciousness  of  itself.  The 
antiques  regarded  each  other  solemnly ;  the 
statue  of  Pity  seemed  to  breathe  and  turn 
its  face ;  but  the  figure  of  the  Christ  did  not 
stir  ;  it  hung  at  about  the  height  of  a  cross, 
upon  the  wall.  In  the  medical  school  a  few 
stray  students  had  finished  their  work  in  the 
dissecting  room  and  had  gone  for  the  night. 
With  the  exception  of  the  janitor  and  the 
engineer,  the  building  was  deserted  now  of 
human  presence,  and  in  its  upper  stories  quiet. 
In   the   basement  it  could   seldom  be   called 


160  TKIXY 

quiet.  In  that  inferno  the  circles  of  misery 
gave  out  the  inarticulate  expression  of  a  doom 
worse  because  neither  understood,  elected,  nor 
deserved.  For  the  most  part  these  signs  of 
anguish  were  gentle  and  docile,  and  at  night 
were  much  in  abeyance.  Now  and  then  a  dog 
howled,  or,  if  not  badly  injured,  barked ;  and 
broken  moans  of  pain  answered  from  some 
awakened  or  some  dreaming  creature ;  but 
most  of  the  victims  endured  with  the  silence 
and  patience  by  which  the  suffering  animal 
shames  the  human  race. 

The  room  was  dark,  and  the  atmosphere 
heavy,  as  has  been  said.  Creatures  accustomed 
to  freedom  and  to  fresh  air  gasped  the  night 
away.  The  large  place  was  lined  with  cages, 
each  occupied  by  its  little  prisoner.  The  in- 
oculated victims  were  many  —  rabbits,  guinea 
pigs,  and  the  like  —  all  vicariously,  and  for 
the  most  part  uselessly,  enduring  for  the  va- 
garies of  science  the  maladies  of  man.  Sights 
which  the  readers  of  these  pages  could  not 
bring  their  delicate  sensibilities  to  witness, 
facts  which  you  who  follow  this  narrative 
would  not  permit  its  writer  to  relate,  crowded 
that  den  of  anguish. 


TRIXY  161 

Those  four  walls,  packed  with  suffering1, 
kept  their  secrets  well.  Into  this  tragic  place 
no  curious  reporter  was  admitted  ;  from  it  the 
omnipotence  of  the  press  was  excluded ;  into 
this  pit  no  sister  of  mercy  stepped ;  to  these 
wounded  no  hospital  nurse  brought  the  min- 
istrations of  her  gentle  art ;  into  this  lair  no 
preacher  entered,  and,  leaving  it,  challenged 
Christian  civilization  with  its  existence ;  into 
this  hell  no  Christ  descended. 

It  was  well  after  midnight  when  a  slight 
disturbance  occurred  in  the  animal  room.  A 
newcomer,  who  had  not  yet  been  operated 
upon,  and  who  was  not  caged,  but  tied,  awoke 
whining.  Restless  calls  of  response  echoed 
throughout  the  large  room.  The  little  white 
dog  that  had  caused  the  trouble  pulled  franti- 
cally at  its  rope,  and  in  its  most  pathetic  way 
called  for  its  master.  A  low  reply  came  from 
an  adjoining  cage,  and  a  black  muzzle  pressed 
itself  against  the  netting.  The  white  poodle 
returned  a  few  sympathetic  remarks,  and  the 
two  carried  on  a  short  conversation.  The 
debutante  in  that  sad  society,  who  though 
sometimes  leashed,  was  not,  until  her  recent 


162  TRIXY 

unhappy  experience,  accustomed  to  be  tied, 
resented  her  captivity  with  intolerable  aston- 
ishment. She  pulled  and  pulled  again  at  the 
stout  rope,  and  then,  yielding  to  the  stifling 
closeness  of  the  room,  stopped,  panting  and 
exhausted.  Low  whines  from  the  black  spaniel 
in  the  nearest  cage  greeted  this  failure. 

Most  dogs,  even  the  most  intelligent  and 
the  best  educated,  are  numbed  by  despair 
when  they  are  lost.  Their  very  powers  of 
thought  or  recognition  are  affected  by  the  su- 
preme catastrophe.  For  two  weeks  the  French 
poodle  had  been  bewildered  by  the  agony  of 
homesickness.  Torn  from  its  master,  from  its 
home,  from  its  occupation,  it  had  fallen  into 
a  lethargy  that  had  dispossessed  it  of  its  nat- 
ural reason.  Now,  after  the  last  desperate 
and  futile  attempt  to  break  or  gnaw  the  rope, 
the  baffled  creature  had  cast  itself  upon  the 
floor.  In  that  moment  of  exhaustion,  memory 
flooded  its  brain.  With  a  bound  the  dog 
leaped  to  its  feet.  It  uttered  a  short,  piercing 
bark  of  triumph.  Suddenly  Trixy  had  found 
herself. 

It  now  occurred  to  her  for  the  first  time 
that,  no  matter  what  might  be  the  case  with 


TRIXY  163 

more  ignorant  dogs,  it  was  quite  unnecessary 
for  her  to  remain  a  prisoner.  She  could  slip 
her  collar,  as  she  had  done  scores  of  times 
before.  She  bent  her  head  down,  put  her 
paws  up  to  her  neck,  and  with  a  wriggle  or 
two,  deftly  drew  the  collar  over  her  ears. 
Contemptuously  she  picked  it  up  and  tossed 
it  away.  Trixy's  intellect,  although  close  on 
the  keenest  order  known  to  her  race,  paused 
on  the  hither  side  of  the  facts  that  an  attempt 
had  been  made  to  remove  the  plate  from  her 
collar,  and  that,  this  having  failed,  the  name 
of  her  master  had  been  scratched  into  partial 
illegibility. 

The  little  actress  now  had  the  freedom  of 
the  room.  The  first  use  that  she  made  of  it 
was  to  examine  its  occupants,  her  companions 
in  misfortune.  She  addressed  herself  at  the 
outset  to  her  neighbor,  the  black  spaniel ;  but 
he,  for  some  reason  which  was  beyond  Trixy's 
power  to  fathom,  responded  only  by  feeble 
moans.  Hoping  to  find  some  more  sociable 
playmate,  Trixy  made  a  tour  of  the  room. 
She  was  especially  interested  in  a  cat,  to  whom 
some  extraordinary  thing  had  happened,  for 
it    neither   spit   nor   scratched,   nor,   in   fact, 


164  TRIXY 

made  any  reply  to  Trixy's  advances.  In  point 
of  fact,  this  was  considered  upstairs  a  very 
interesting  case.  The  cat  had  been  subjected 
for  five  hours  to  a  treatment  of  which  it  is 
impossible  on  a  page  like  this  to  speak  in  de- 
tail. The  downstairs  view  of  the  experiment 
was  another  matter,  and  the  cat  was  as  much 
in  the  dark  as  Trixy  as  to  the  why  and  where- 
fore of  her  suffering. 

Discouraged  by  her  reception  there,  Trixy 
sought  the  acquaintance  of  a  few  guinea  pigs 
and  rabbits,  one  monkey,  and  a  pigeon  or 
two.  These  were  too  ill  to  respond,  and,  as 
Trixy  had  not  learned  their  language,  she 
passed  on. 

Dogs,  like  human  beings,  make  their  friends 
instinctively,  and  stick  to  them.  In  the  dark, 
and  in  what  she  half  consciously  perceived  to 
be  danger,  Trixy  craved  companionship.  She 
trotted  back  to  the  only  place  where  this  could 
be  found.  She  sat  up  on  her  hind  legs  hi  front 
of  the  spaniel's  cage,  and  prettily  begged  him 
to  come  out.  Grieved  at  his  indifference,  Trixy 
began  to  whine  and  scratch  at  the  cage  door. 
Her  higher  intelligence  now  grasped  the  fact 
that  the  dog  was  in  suffering  of  some  kind, 


TRIXY  165 

for  some  reason,  and  she  proceeded  to  inves- 
tigate both  these  mysteries  ;  but  it  was  too 
dark  to  make  much  headway  with  them,  and 
she  lay  down  in  front  of  the  spaniel's  cage. 
Here  she  remained  patiently  until  the  first 
gray  sign  of  dawn  entered  the  window. 

Trixy  had  been  transferred  the  evening  be- 
fore from  another  part  of  the  cellar,  which, 
had  she  but  known  it,  though  more  dismal, 
was  to  be  preferred  to  her  present  quarters, 
and  for  a  sinister  reason  that  fortunately  was 
beyond  the  scope  of  her  power  to  forecast, 
because  it  was  outside  the  range  of  her  ex- 
perience. In  that  other  prison  she  had  found 
no  opportunity  for  society  ;  she  now  stood  up, 
and  in  the  fast-growing  light  began  to  inspect 
her  new  acquaintance  closely. 

Through  the  netting  of  the  cage  she  saw  a 
cocker  spaniel,  black,  with  a  white  shirt-frill, 
and  what  seemed  to  be  a  white  part  in  the 
middle  of  his  forehead,  but  of  this  it  was  dif- 
ficult to  be  sure,  for  the  dog's  head  was  bound 
with  a  bandage  of  cloth.  This  perplexed  Trixy, 
and  struck  her  as  a  novel  circumstance.  In- 
deed, the  whole  situation  of  the  spaniel  mysti- 
fied and  saddened  her.    One  thing  only  was 


166  TRIXY 

clear  —  the  clog  was  in  pain,  and  she,  gen- 
erously sharing  his  misery,  for  the  moment, 
as  human  philanthropists  do  in  similar  cases, 
forgot  her  own. 

Among  animals  of  the  higher  class  feelings 
are  more  contagious  than  with  men.  Lacking 
a  system  of  intricate  communication,  they 
catch  emotion  instinctively.  The  black  spaniel 
now  began  to  respond  to  Trixy's  advances.  It 
arose,  wagged  its  tail  feebly,  and  came  to  the 
door  of  its  cage,  looking  at  its  new  friend 
with  great,  mournful,  mystified  eyes.  This 
attention  Trixy  received  with  little  yelps  of 
ecstasy. 

She  stood  up  again  on  her  hind  legs  and 
tried  to  kiss  the  spaniel,  but  could  not,  for 
the  wire  forbade  the  caress ;  which,  besides, 
tasted  metallic. 

Yet  Trixy  could  not  be  denied.  She  made 
a  few  desperate  scratches,  but  found  the  cage 
too  strong  for  penetration.  That  it  must  have 
an  opening  she  did  not  doubt.  Her  black  eyes 
began  to  snap  and  glisten.  Her  hot,  black 
nose  dilated  with  eager  sniffs  as  she  investi- 
gated the  front  of  the  cage.  Ah  !  Here  the 
scent  of  man !    Here  must  be  the  opening  of 


TRIXY  167 

the  door  —  this  wooden,  much-worn  pin. 
Trixy  began  to  work  furiously  on  that  new 
thought.  She  tugged  with  her  teeth,  every 
now  and  then  scratching  the  side  of  the  cage 
to  see  if  the  entrance  yielded. 

All  the  while  the  spaniel  stood  patiently. 
At  each  of  Trixy's  efforts  his  dulled  eyes  took 
on  a  lighter  shade  of  intelligence.  For  two 
years  he  had  never  known  a  free  hour  —  a 
moment  of  happiness  —  a  sign  of  tenderness. 
If  he  had  ever  had  a  home,  the  memory  of  its 
delight  was  only  a  clot  on  the  brain.  For 
misery  was  his  life,  and  torment  his  pastime. 
He  had  been  existing  in  a  black  cloud,  and 
the  interest  of  this  little  white  poodle  was  the 
only  thing  his  incarceration  had  offered  to 
show  that  all  breathing  creatures  were  not 
inquisitors  or  victims. 

Suddenly  with  a  jerk  Trixy  fell  back.  In 
her  mouth  was  the  wooden  pin.  This  she  had 
pulled  out  like  an  under  tooth  from  the  top. 
She  regarded  the  round  piece  of  wood  with 
intense  hatred.  She  bit  at  it,  and  then,  in  a 
moment  of  inspiration,  ran  away  with  it  and 
hid  it  —  where,  no  man  to  this  day  knows. 
Then  she  came  back  triumphant.    Now,  her 


168  TRIXY 

poor  friend  was  free.  She  pushed  at  the  door, 
but  this  diabolical  contrivance  was  made  to 
open  out  —  not  in.  All  the  while  the  black 
spaniel  looked  on  stolidly.  He  wanted  to  re- 
spond, to  help,  but  he  did  not  know  how. 

Then  Trixy  began  a  course  of  instruction. 
She  put  her  right  paw  up  and  patted  the  door 
sharply,  and  looked  at  the  prisoner  with  a 
pleading  whine.  "  Do  what  I  do  ! "  she  said, 
as  plainly  as  articulation  could  have  said  it. 
Her  imprisoned  friend  was  a  stupid  fellow  in 
her  critical  estimation,  and  responded  to  her 
teaching  slowly.  But  at  length  he  learned  the 
lesson,  and  pushed  the  cage  door  open. 

With  the  instinct  which  might  or  might  not 
be  called  forethought,  Trixy,  with  a  light 
bound,  closed  the  door  of  the  cage.  She  did 
not  wish  to  lose  her  playmate,  and  so  made 
sure  that  he  could  not  return  to  his  cage.  It 
is  not  impossible  that  she  desired  to  conceal 
the  fact  of  his  escape. 

The  freed  spaniel  was  evidently  not  relieved 
from  his  suffering  by  this  release.  Puzzled  by 
the  fact,  Trixy  inspected  her  new  friend  care- 
fully, uttering,  as  she  did  so,  low  cries  of  sym- 
pathy. To  these  the  spaniel  replied  with  moans. 


TRIXY  169 

Overwhelmed  with  pity,  Trixy  conducted  him 
on  a  tour  of  the  room,  seeking  an  exit. 

She  had  not  yet  discovered  the  door.  Her 
attention,  in  fact,  was  diverted  from  it  by  the 
condition  of  her  companion,  whose  evident 
pain  did  not  lessen  under  exercise.  Trixy  now 
examined  the  bandage  on  the  clog's  head,  and 
thinking  that  the  trouble  must  be  there,  gently 
tore  the  cloth  off,  and  licked  the  wound.  This 
hospital  treatment  the  spaniel  received  grate- 
fully, but,  as  he  did  not  recover  his  health 
and  spirits  under  it,  Trixy  now  devoted  her- 
self once  more  to  her  search  for  a  means  of 
escape. 

It  was  now  so  hVht  that  she  could  see  the 
door  plainly,  and  to  this  she  ran,  the  spaniel 
following  slowly. 

It  was  one  of  the  boasts  of  the  faculty  of 
Galen  that  the  animals  "  dedicated "  to  the 
rack  of  science  were  treated  with  great  con- 
sideration during  their  imprisonment,  previous 
to  their  sacrifice ;  and  with  even  more  con- 
sideration and  greater  tenderness  after  their 
wounds  had  been  inflicted.  Incidentally,  this 
was  good  economy,  as  well  as  good  surgery. 

With  a  regard  for  the  feelings  of  the  vie- 


170  TRIXY 

tims  in  itself  worthy  of  note,  Professor  Steele 
had  directed  that  some  air  should  be  admitted 
into  the  animal  room  on  nights  when  the 
windows  were  closed.  The  college  carpenter 
had  ingeniously  devised  a  strong  wire  netting 
about  a  couple  of  feet  high,  which,  hasped 
both  to  the  door  and  to  the  jamb,  kept  the 
door  ajar,  and  yet  allowed  no  egress  for  small 
creatures. 

Trixy  proceeded  to  study  this  invention 
curiously.  She  had  been  educated  to  hasps, 
but  had  never  seen  a  door  fastened  in  this 
manner.  She  was  quite  familiar  with  the 
nature  of  a  hook  and  screw-eye,  and  had 
been  taught  to  open  them.  Indeed,  to  release 
herself  from  a  little  cage  that  had  been 
hasped  tight  had  been  one  of  the  most  dra- 
matic accomplishments  of  her  stage  career. 

Stimulated  rather  than  discouraged  by  this 
obstacle,  the  trick  dog  now  concentrated  her 
intelligence  upon  the  carpenter's  skillful  de- 
sign. It  was  by  this  time  quite  light,  and 
footsteps  were  heard  stirring  in  the  building. 
Spurred  by  the  consciousness  of  danger  and 
the  necessity  of  haste,  Trixy  thrust  up  the 
upper   hook  from  its  socket ;  the  lower  one 


TRIXY  171 

stuck.  She  could  easily  have  leaped  the  whole 
obstruction,  but  she  knew  her  friend  could 
not.  With  a  few  more  tugs,  Trixy  released 
the  lower  hook,  and  the  netting  fell  back. 
The  performing  dog  was  so  pleased  with  this 
achievement  that  she  stood  up  on  her  hind 
legs  and  bowed  to  the  caged  audience  which 
the  freed  prisoners  were  leaving  behind  them. 
Trixy  was  surprised  to  notice  the  absence  of 
applause. 

The  two  now  found  themselves  in  the  cor- 
ridor of  which  we  have  spoken,  Trixy  lead- 
ing with  impatient  slowness,  and  the  wounded 
spaniel  following  painfully.  Trixy  made  at 
once  for  the  large  outer  door.  This  was 
latched,  locked,  and  barred.  No  canine  skill 
could  prevail  against  that  inexorable  human 
barrier. 

By  this  time  the  spaniel  was  tired  out,  and 
lay  down.  Trixy  stood  over  the  poor  crea- 
ture in  despair.  Was  all  her  super-canine 
effort  to  be  in  vain  ?  At  this  tragic  moment 
the  footfalls  of  the  janitor  were  heard  de- 
scending the  stairs.  Trixy  scampered  up  and 
down  the  corridor  in  desperation.  The  door 
of  the  closet  nearest  to  the  outside  entrance 


172  TRIXY 

was  slightly  ajar.  With  one  of  those  inspira- 
tions which  are  given  only  to  hunted  crea- 
tures, Trixy  ran  back  to  her  companion,  and 
prodded  him  to  his  feet.  This  was  done  in 
perfect  silence  ;  as  silently,  the  spaniel  obeyed 
her.  Trixy  led  the  way  to  the  closet  door. 
The  bewildered  and  wounded  dog  followed 
her.  They  had  scarcely  hidden  themselves  in 
the  darkest  corner  of  the  closet  behind  some 
rubbish  —  collars,  rubbers,  and  the  like  — 
when  the  janitor  reached  the  foot  of  the 
stairs,  and  entered  the  animal  room.  There 
he  paused  with  some  expression  of  surprise, 
and  examined  the  door.  Other  steps  were 
now  heard  upon  the  stairway,  and  a  sleepy 
and  scowling  boy  appeared  in  the  wake  of 
the  janitor,  who  was  plainly  an  important 
personage,  and  carried  himself  with  a  lordly 
air.  He  gave  a  few  sharp  directions,  to  which 
the  boy  responded,  grumbling. 

Trixy  —  she  who  had  always  loved  and 
trusted  man  the  friend  —  now  with  ears  erect, 
breath  held,  listened  with  agonizing  appre- 
hension to  each  manoeuvre  of  man  the  foe. 
She  was  perfectly  self-possessed.  But  the 
spaniel,  at  every  thud  of  the  janitor's  heavy 


TRIXY  173 

feet,  had  a  fit  of  nervous  shivering,  as  if  its 
poor  body  were  being  disrupted  on  an  elec- 
tric rack. 

To  these  two  spirits  in  prison  moments  be- 
came eternity,  and  ignorant  hope  wrestled 
with  instinctive  despair.  The  terror  of  the 
fugitive,  strained  through  canine  sensitive- 
ness, is  a  doom  apart. 

Now  the  shuffling  steps  of  the  boy  were 
heard  coming  from  the  animal  room.  Trixy 
let  her  whole  weight  of  seven  pounds  drop 
protectingly  upon  the  spaniel's  shoulder.  The 
boy  had  a  pail  and  a  mop.  He  slammed  the 
door  of  the  animal  room  behind  him  and  went 
to  the  low  door  at  the  end  of  the  corridor. 
This  door  he  unlocked  and  left  open.  The 
fresh  morning  air  swept  in,  penetrating  even 
the  dark  closet.  Trixy  sniffed  joyously,  but 
the  black  spaniel  beneath  her  feet  breathed 
hard ;  he  still  had  spasms  of  violent  trem- 
bling. 

The  boy  began  to  mop  the  floor,  morosely 
whistling  as  he  did  so.  He  left  the  outside 
door  open  to  air  the  corridor,  and  slammed 
himself  again  into  the  animal  room.  The  cor- 
ridor was  quiet. 


174  TRIXY 

Now  Trixy  allowed  herself  the  luxury  of  a 
joyful  yelp.  She  tugged  at  her  friend,  lead- 
ing hirn  hy  the  ear  to  the  closet  door.  Here, 
on  the  threshold,  these  two  prisoners  of  man's 
misguided  convictions  stopped  and  listened, 
palpitating. 

The  white  poodle  did  not  hesitate  any 
longer.  It  was  as  if  she  gave  the  word  of 
command.  Beyond  that  open  door  were  lib- 
erty, and  the  hope  of  love,  and  home. 

Dazed,  the  spaniel  deferred  to  her.  What 
was  release  to  that  suffering  creature  ?  He 
had  been  held  too  long  to  grasp  its  meaning. 
Almost  the  last  instinct  for  locality  and  home 
had  been  trephined  out  of  him.  But  Trixy 
passionately  urged  him  on.  Hers  was  the 
saving  mission,  and  it  had,  as  all  salvation, 
whether  of  the  higher  or  the  lower  being, 
must  have,  its  element  of  potential  sacrifice. 
Perhaps  —  who  can  say  ?  —  she  knew  that  she 
was  risking  her  own  chance.  But  Trixy  waited 
for  the  weaker  dog.  She  uttered  low  sounds 
of  encouragement  to  which  the  spaniel  replied 
by  feeble  wags.  Trixy,  looking  out,  could  see 
the  sunshine,  sky,  and  liberty.  Under  the  low, 
projecting  balcony,  what  hiding-places  !    Be- 


TRIXY  175 

yond  was  the  walled  yard,  but  here  was  an 
alley  or  narrow  roadway,  leading  —  oh,  joy  ! 
—  to  freedom.  Trixy  had  happened  upon  the 
only  egress  by  means  of  which  she  could  have 
escaped.  She  pushed  her  friend  over  the  sill 
upon  the  ground,  and  herself  crouched  to 
spring  and  follow. 

At  the  very  moment  when  her  courage  and 
resource,  worthy  of  a  higher  organization,  had 
won  her  liberty,  the  catastrophe  occurred.  A 
gust  of  wind  took  the  door  and  slammed  it 
with  a  crash  in  her  white  face. 

This  tragic  accident,  un dreaded  because 
undreamed  of,  shut  out  the  sun,  and  shut 
her  in  to  a  nameless  fate. 


CHAPTER  IX 

Dr.  Bernard  approached  his  private  operat- 
ing table.  It  was  a  little  after  ten  o'clock, 
and  he  was  impatiently  awaiting  some  guests 
of  the  medical  fraternity  whom  he  had  invited 
to  witness  a  novel  and  interesting  experiment. 
He  was  clad  in  a  white  blouse,  and  was  puff- 
ing stolidly  at  a  black  cigar.  His  face  had 
coarsened  visibly  in  the  last  six  months.  Take 
the  man  away  from  the  protection  of  his  posi- 
tion, and  put  him  in  the  slums  —  how  would 
he  have  been  classified  ?  From  his  brutal 
mouth,  his  muddy  complexion,  his  hard,  shift- 
ing eyes,  his  spiny  red  hair,  and  his  massive, 
prehensile  hands,  the  average  police  officer 
would  have  picked  him  out  as  the  type  of  a 
defective  bent  towards  crime.  As  it  was,  some 
looked  upon  him  through  smoked  glasses,  as 
one  of  the  saviors  of  mankind. 

He  took  up  one  instrument  after  another 
and  tested  the  edge  on  his  broad  thumb.  By 
his  smile   the   most   careless   observer  could 


TRIXY  177 

have  seen  that  he  was  satisfied.  Bernard  con- 
sulted his  watch  again  and  turned  to  his  as- 
sistant. 

"  You  might  as  well  bring  up  the  dog.  Is 
it  properly  shaved  ?  You  need  not  put  it  on 
the  board.    I  will  attend  to  that  myself." 

While  he  waited,  smoking  vigorously,  his 
guests  —  three  in  number  —  were  ushered  in  ; 
they  fell  to  talking  briskly  upon  the  subject 
of  the  experiment.  One  of  the  visitors  was  a 
middle-aged  man ;  the  others  were  young ; 
and  all  looked  absorbed  and  eager. 

"  I  suppose  we  have  got  to  wait  for  the 
professor,"  Bernard  explained  somewhat  ill- 
naturedly.  "  I  expect  him  here  any  minute. 
He  is  a  good  deal  out  of  sorts  to-day.  There 's 
been  a  mishap  in  the  animal  room,  and  he  's 
lost  his  favorite  material.  You  know  that  se- 
ries of  his  upon  the  brain  ?  " 

"  The  basis  of  that  essay  he  's  been  at  work 
on  for  a  year  ?  "  interrupted  one  of  the  younger 
men.    "  What  a  pity  !  " 

"  It  must  overthrow  the  whole  scheme," 
observed  the  other. 

"  Well,  yes,"  admitted  Bernard,  without 
heartiness.    "  I  suppose  it  does.    Anyhow  he 's 


178  TRIXY 

so  put  out  about  it  he  's  gone  himself  to  or- 
ganize a  search,  and  he  's  got  all  his  fellows  at 
work.  He  may  not  turn  up  at  all.  I  suppose 
he  thought  more  of  that  dog  than  of  anything 
else  in  the  world.  You  see  the  value  of  the 
continuity  of  his  experiments  lies  in  their  be- 
ing confined  to  one  subject." 

"  Such  research  is  as  rare  as  it  is  priceless," 
suggested  one  of  the  younger  men. 

"  If  the  dog  had  held  out,"  said  Bernard, 
"  we  should  have  finished  the  series  in  two 
months." 

The  assistant  put  Trixy  down  upon  the 
table,  and  patted  her  head  as  he  did  so.  It 
would  be  difficult  to  say  when  this  servant  of 
science  had  done  such  a  thing  before,  at  least 
in  the  presence  of  his  superior  officer. 

The  four  men  looked  at  the  little  white  dog 
with  curiosity.  Its  smallness,  its  helplessness, 
its  beauty,  its  evident  intelligence  appealed  to 
them  in  their  own  despite.  The  physiologists 
were  attracted  towards  the  pretty  sprite  who 
looked  from  one  to  the  other  expectantly. 
Bernard  alone  remained  unimpressed. 

Trixy  walked  around  the  edge  of  the  table, 
and  as  a  preliminary  to  further  acquaintance 


TRIXY  179 

sat  up  and  solemnly  shook  hands  with  the 
gentlemen,  each  in  succession.  She  paused 
at  Bernard  last,  and  as  she  offered  him  her 
white  paw,  she  looked  up  into  his  sinister  eyes 
with  an  elfish  intuition,  and  then  backed  away. 
She  had  instinctively  discerned  the  enemy ; 
but  she  was  too  much  of  a  lady  to  snarl  at  the 
discovery. 

Then  the  little  actress,  feeling  the  dark 
menace  in  Dr.  Bernard's  countenance,  turned 
her  back  upon  the  operator,  stood  up  on  her 
hind  legs,  and  began  to  perform  for  her  life. 
It  was  not  as  large  an  audience  as  she  was 
accustomed  to,  but  none  had  ever  watched 
her  with  greater  interest.  Here  were  minds 
trained  in  the  exact  tenets  of  science.  Here 
was  another  illustration  of  the  possibility  of 
brain  development.  These  men  cared  much 
for  reflex  action,  little  for  personality.  They 
had  much  admiration  for  the  evidence  of 
muscle  control,  but  little  mercy  for  the  indi- 
vidual. Modern  science  deifies  the  experiment, 
but  ignores  the  subject. 

Trixy  was  rather  spurred  than  daunted  by 
the  terrible  circumstances  in  which  she  found 
herself,  and  went  through  her  little  repertoire 


180  TRIXY 

brilliantly.  She  turned  several  somersaults 
with  neatness  and  dispatch  ;  she  picked  up  a 
long  pair  of  pincers,  held  it  over  her  shoulder 
as  if  it  were  a  gun,  and  marched  through  a 
few  military  evolutions  with  a  soldierly  bear- 
ing. She  waltzed  with  an  imaginary  partner, 
and  went  through  her  skirt  dance  gracefully, 
although  pained  by  the  absence  of  drapery. 
She  did  the  best  she  could  without  any  of  the 
stage  accessories  to  which  she  was  used. 

The  middle-aged  doctor  had  been  watching 
her  silently.  He  did  not  smile  as  the  others 
did,  and  a  line  between  his  brows  deepened. 

He  thought :  "  What  a  pity  !  My  little  boy 
would  like  that  dog."  But  when  he  glanced 
at  Bernard's  cold,  repulsive  face,  he  felt  that 
it  would  be  useless  as  well  as  embarrassing  to 
make  his  wishes  known  ;  at  any  rate,  the  pro- 
fessional esprit  de  corps  restrained  their  ex- 
pression. The  physician  could  not,  however, 
or  did  not  help  asking  : 

"  Where  did  you  pick  that  pretty  creature 
up  ( 

"  Oh,  it  came  in  the  usual  way.  We  can't 
keep  track  of  them  all,"  Bernard  answered 
peevishly. 


TRIXY  181 

Trixy,  with  the  canine  instinct  for  sympathy 
which  is  so  much  stronger  than  human  reason, 
had  now  crossed  the  table,  and  approached 
the  middle-aged  doctor.  She  felt  that  this 
was  the  only  friend  she  had  in  the  room.  She 
stood  up  to  her  full  height,  put  both  her 
hands  on  both  of  his,  and  looked  into  his  face 
eloquently.  At  this  moment  there  was  a  knock 
at  the  door,  and  the  janitor  came  in. 

"  Dr.  Steele  has  telephoned  that  he  cannot 
come,  and  not  to  delay  the  experiment  any 
longer,  sir." 

Bernard,  with  a  relieved  expression,  turned 
to  his  assistant. 

"  Well,  let 's  get  to  work,  John.  It's  getting 
late,  and  what  I  propose  to  demonstrate  to 
you,  gentlemen,  will  take  some  time." 

The  assistant  took  a  step  forward.  Trixy 
still  kept  her  paws  in  the  gray-haired  gentle- 
man's hands.  This  representative  of  modern 
science  experienced  within  himself  an  unex- 
pected civil  war.  There  was  a  pang  at  his 
heart,  and  a  blush  on  his  face ;  he  did  not 
look  at  the  operator. 

"  Why  not  give  the  little  creature  five 
minutes    more  ? "    he   said.     "  I    don't    think 


182  TRIXY 

she  has  come  to  the  end  of  her  perform- 
ance." 

Reprieved  for  the  moment,  Trixy  looked 
the  doctor  steadily  in  the  eyes ;  out  of  her 
own  the  elf-look  had  gone,  never  from  that 
moment  to  return. 

She  had  a  strained  expression,  and  her  little 
face  seemed  to  wizen  and  wrinkle  as  if  she 
had  suddenly  aged  many  years.  Now,  Trixy 
lifted  her  head.  There  was  only  one  thing 
left  for  her  to  do  that  she  had  not  done.  She 
was  more  proud  of  her  musical  education  than 
of  any  other  of  her  accomplishments,  and,  rent 
between  hope  and  despair,  she  began  to  sing. 

Although  her  master  —  the  God  of  little 
lost  dogs  knew  why  —  was  not  there  to  ac- 
company her,  she  kept  along  with  her  part  of 
the  duet  that  she  had  sung  with  him  before  a 
hundred  houses  — 

She  's  my  lady, 
And  I  '11  love  her 
Till  I  die. 

By  one  of  those  mysterious  insights  given 
to  all  creatures  who  are  doomed  to  death,  did 
Trixy  know  that  she  was  singing  her  swan 
song?    Her  little  claws  grasped  at  the  warm 


TRIXY  183 

hands  that  held  them.  Tears  started  to  the 
eyes  of  the  gray-haired  doctor,  and  because 
he  could  not  brush  them  off,  they  trembled 
down  his  cheeks.  As  the  last  notes  of  Trixy's 
song  died  away,  a  slight  sound  at  the  window 
(which  was  lowered  from  the  top)  attracted 
the  attention  of  the  little  actress's  small  but 
thoughtful  audience.  A  white  pigeon,  that 
had  been  sitting  on  the  sill,  started  up  and 
flew  in  and  whirred  about  the  room.  Bernard 
glanced  at  the  winged  thing  greedily. 

"  Might  as  well  catch  it,  John,"  he  said. 
"  It  may  prove  useful." 

But  the  bird,  lightly  hovering  for  a  mo- 
ment, swept  away,  circled  about  the  labor- 
atory two  or  three  times,  darted  across  the 
lowered  window,  and  cooing  softly,  melted  into 
the  blue.  It  became  a  gleam,  became  a  sparkle, 
became  a  speck,  and  was  not.  The  gray-haired 
doctor,  who  was  still  holding  Trixy's  trem- 
bling paws,  followed  the  flight  of  the  bird 
with  a  grave  glance. 

"  Come,  John  !  Come  !  "  repeated  Bernard 
impatiently.  John,  at  the  word  of  command, 
took  firm  hold  of  the  little  dog,  and  fastened 
her  to    the  dog-board  deftly.     When  Trixy, 


184  TRIXY 

struggling  and  crying  like  a  human  baby,  lay 
stretched  and  helpless  in  the  straps,  the  middle- 
aged  doctor  winced  and  turned  his  face.  There 
was  some  difficulty  about  adjusting  the  bit  in 
Trixy's  mouth  (she  was  so  small),  and  Bernard 
himself  took  hold  and  completed  the  task ;  this 
he  did  with  skill  and  ease,  and  without  sign 
of  emotion. 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened  without 
knocking.  With  an  agitated  face  the  janitor 
hurried  in. 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir  —  there  is  a  gentleman  out 
here  says  he  must  come  in.  I  've  done  my  best, 
sir,  but  he  says  "  — 

The  janitor  whispered  a  few  disturbed  words 
in  Bernard's  ear. 


CHAPTER  X 

"Moving,"  said  Mrs.  Percy  B.  Jeffries,  "is 
a  phenomenon,  but  like  other  phenomena  is 
amenable  to  the  laws  of  nature."  She  said 
this  with  the  gratification  of  a  conventional 
mind  that  has  chanced  to  originate  an  idea. 
"  But  I  flatter  myself  that  I  move  my  house- 
hold with  system,  energy,  and  good  spirits." 

It  was  a  part  of  Aunt  Cornelia's  system 
and  energy  to  accomplish  her  flitting  from 
shore  to  town  by  relays,  and  she  began  by 
sending  the  horses  a  week  ahead. 

Miriam,  who,  under  ordinary  circumstances, 
found  her  aunt's  system,  energy,  and  good 
spirits  sufficiently  trying,  on  the  late  Septem- 
ber morning  of  which  we  speak  woke  to  a 
consciousness  that  these  domestic  virtues  were 
intolerable.  She  suddenly  announced  her  in- 
tention of  driving  into  town  with  Matthew 
and  the  chestnut  pair.  She  could  not  have 
said  whether  her  restlessness  arose  from  a  wish 
to  see  Steele  or  to  escape  him,  or  whether,  in- 
deed, it  had  any  relation  to  Steele  at  all. 


186  TRIXY 

She  had  waked,  while  it  was  still  dark,  from 
a  troubled  sleep,  and  had  aroused  to  a  sense 
of  oppression  amounting  almost  to  superstition. 
For  no  reason  that  she  could  have  explained, 
it  seemed  to  her  that  she  must  start.  To  no 
end  that  she  could  foresee,  she  felt  herself 
driven.  Emotions  long  held  in  abeyance,  asso- 
ciations resolutely  expelled  from  her  memory 
crowded  upon  her.  In  fact,  she  had  been 
dreaming  half  the  night  —  an  agitated  dream 
in  which  pain  and  joy  alternately  depressed 
and  elated  her.  Curiously,  in  this  dream  Olin 
Steele  bore  no  part  whatever.  It  was  as  if 
he  had  never  existed,  or  for  her  existed  no 
longer.  She  hurried  away,  still  wearing  the 
white  serge  dress  that  she  had  on  the  evening 
before ;  she  covered  this  with  a  long  Scotch 
tweed  coat,  that  came  to  the  hem  of  her  gown. 
She  tossed  on  a  straw  hat,  and  veil,  ran  out  to 
the  stables,  and  jumped  into  the  victoria  just 
as  Matthew  was  starting  away.  It  was  scarcely 
more  than  seven  o'clock,  and  the  cool  morn- 
ing air  calmed  her  mysterious  disturbance. 
The  horses  were  in  good  spirits,  and  the  drive 
took  scarcely  two  hours. 

As  Miriam  neared  the  city  her  mind  re- 


TRIXY  187 

bounded  from  her  perplexities,  and,  accord- 
ing to  her  sweet  habit,  the  troubles  of  others 
came  uppermost.  Matthew,  who  had  sat  in 
well-trained  silence,  now  shrewdly  perceiving 
her  change  of  mood,  suddenly  inquired  : 

"  Hain't  the  gossoon  found  poor  Trixy  yet?" 

"  We  '11  ask,"  said  Miss  Lauriat,  arousing 
herself  eagerly.  "  Drive  around  to  Mr.  Sur- 
bridge's  office,  and  I  '11  go  in." 

But  Philip  Surbridge  was  not  in  his  office, 
and,  moreover,  had  left  word  that  he  was  not 
to  be  expected  for  some  hours.  Miriam's  face 
sank  a  little,  and  she  came  down  and  out  to 
the  carriage  slowly.  She  seemed  to  be  hesi- 
tating as  to  her  next  step,  and  somewhat 
dejectedly  gave  the  order  to  drive  home. 

Matthew  left  her  standing  upon  the  side- 
walk at  her  own  door ;  she  had  a  weary  and 
irresolute  expression,  not  at  all  characteristic 
of  her  ;  she  mounted  the  steps  slowly,  with 
eyes  cast  down.  Near  the  top  she  paused  for 
a  minute  to  unbutton  her  long  coat  and  untie 
her  veil.  While  thus  occupied  she  fancied 
that  she  heard  a  strange  low  sound  —  stopped 
to  listen,  but  decided  that  she  was  mistaken  ; 
and  languidly  folding  her  white  veil,  came  up 


188  TRIXY 

the  remaining  steps  —  these  were  but  two  or 
three. 

The  outer  door  was  open ;  the  inner  one 
locked.  Miriam  had  forgotten  her  latch  key, 
and  delayed  to  ring  the  bell.  As  she  did 
this,  the  sound  that  she  heard,  or  thought 
she  heard,  was  plainly  repeated.  It  was  a 
sad  sound,  plaintive  and  low.  She  went  at 
once  into  the  vestibule,  and  at  its  threshold 
stood,  staring.  Every  fleck  of  color  left  her 
face.  Her  heart  beat  so  in  her  throat  that  it 
seemed  to  her  she  should  never  draw  breath 
again. 

On  the  black  and  white  mosaic  of  the  mar- 
ble floor,  crouched  in  the  corner  of  the  vesti- 
bule, lay  a  little  huddling  dog.  It  was  a  black 
cocker  spaniel  with  a  white  shirt-frill,  and  a 
white  part  in  its  wounded  head. 

"  Caro  !  "  cried  Miriam,  in  a  piercing  voice. 

The  poor  creature  tried  to  crawl  towards 
her,  but  plainly  had  lost  whatever  remnant  of 
strength  had  brought  it  there.  When  she 
stooped  to  lift  him,  the  spaniel  uttered  such  a 
cry  as  would  have  rent  the  heart  of  any  man 
who  had  not  been  born  a  brute,  or  become 
one.    Only  a  lost  dog  can  cry  like  that ;  per- 


TRIXY  189 

haps  only  one  that  has  been  deeply  loved,  and 
exquisitely  cherished. 

"  Caro,  Caro  !  "  repeated  Miriam. 

At  first,  no  other  word  came  to  her  dry 
lips  ;  she  reiterated  it  wildly  ;  her  recognition 
was  hardly  less  piteous  than  the  dog's.  She 
took  the  heavy  little  creature  in  her  arms  — 
its  face  against  her  own,  its  paws  around  her 
neck  —  and,  when  she  saw  the  dog's  condi- 
tion, she  began  to  cry  outright,  and  aloud  like 
a  little  girl.  She  pushed  by  Maggie  at  the 
door,  and  on  into  the  library,  where  she  sank 
into  the  first  chair  with  her  sad  burden  in  her 
lap.  There  she  sat,  and  stared  upon  it.  The 
dog  continued  to  wail  on  in  a  shrill  voice. 
The  old  seamstress  came  in  and  said : 

"  Why,  it 's  Caro  !    It 's  our  Caro  !  " 

And  Maggie  wept  with  her  mistress,  and 
crossed  herself  as  if  she  had  been  in  the  pre- 
sence of  a  miracle. 

But  Matthew,  when  he  came  back,  and  one 
of  the  women  called  him  upstairs,  stood  still, 
and  said  nothing  but  "  The  devil !  " 

Nor  did  he  apologize  to  Miss  Lauriat  for 
the  word.  It  seemed  to  Matthew  a  weak  word, 
fit  for  women  ;  a  man  should  say  something 


190  TRIXY 

adequate  to  the  occasion,  but  nothing  else 
occurred  to  Matthew. 

Miriam  sat  among  her  old  servants  and 
sobbed  helplessly.  It  was  they  who  thought 
and  acted  ;  she  was  bereft  of  herself.  She 
clung  to  the  dog,  caressing  it  pitiably,  and 
her  tears  rained  on  the  wounded  thing.  Her 
first  definite  thought  was  that  she  wanted 
Philip,  but  she  remembered  that  he  was  not 
at  his  office. 

Confusedly  she  heard  Matthew  say  that 
there  'd  sure  better  be  a  doctor,  and  that  re- 
called her. 

"  Why,  yes !  "  she  said,  "  send  for  Dr. 
Steele ! " 

When  Matthew  reported  that  the  professor 
was  not  at  the  medical  school,  Miriam,  with 
the  short,  sharpened  voice  of  unsharable  and 
all  but  unbearable  suffering,  directed  that  a 
message  be  sent  at  once  to  Dr.  Steele's  club 
(where  he  was  likely  to  lunch),  that  it  be 
urgently  expressed,  and  given  in  her  own 
name. 

She  seemed  immediately  to  forget  that  she 
had  set  this  order  in  motion,  and  herself 
began    to   bathe   and   bandage  the  wounded 


TRIXY  191 

dog.  Now  the  spaniel  feebly  lifted  his  poor 
head  and  kissed  her  —  it  was  the  first  time  — 
and  when  he  did  so  Miriam  began  to  sob 
asrain.  She  was  so  shaken  that  the  household 
was  at  its  wit's  end  with  her.  She  had  eaten 
little  breakfast  and  that  very  early,  and  now 
would  take  no  food  ;  she  was  absorbed  in  a 
series  of  efforts  to  induce  the  dog  to  swallow 
some  milk.  It  was  not  until  she  had  succeeded 
in  these  attempts,  and  Caro  had  fallen  asleep, 
that  she  recovered  in  some  degree  her  com- 
posure. 

When  Olin  Steele,  who  had  passed  a  dis- 
turbed and  fretful  morning,  worse  than  wasted 
in  the  fruitless  search  for  his  lost  material,  at 
noon  received  Miss  Lauriat's  message,  his  face 
went  white  with  an  emotion  so  deep  that  the 
man  found  himself  astonished  before  it.  He 
had  always  thought  that  joy  was  an  integer,  or 
an  element,  as  simple  as  it  was  supreme  ;  this 
which  he  experienced  was  a  compound  feeling 
—  from  very  excess  of  bliss  dashed  through 
and  through  with  awe,  or  with  a  fear  that 
was  almost  pain.  Now,  after  all,  his  victory 
lay  in  his  iron  hand.    The  battle  was  to  the 


192  TRIXY 

strong  as  it  always  was,  and  would  be,  world 
without  end.  Oh,  now  at  last,  her  beautiful 
reluctance  had  yielded  ;  right  womanly  as  she 
was,  she  had  surrendered  royally.  Crossing 
the  little  space  between  them,  she  had  stepped 
half  of  the  misty  way  to  meet  his  outstretched 
arms. 

With  ringing  feet  he  hurried  to  her.  With 
lifted  head  and  shining  eyes,  he  disregarded 
the  shadows  of  men.  But  they  in  the  sub- 
stance looked  upon  him  with  the  attention 
that  the  crowd  gives  to  the  superior,  to  the 
happy,  or  to  the  successful ;  most  people  who 
noticed  Steele  that  day  thought  him  to  be  all 
these  thing's. 

He  ran  up  the  steps  like  an  impatient  boy. 
Already  the  hunger  of  his  arms  was  fed,  the 
thirst  of  his  lips  was  quenched.  Already  she 
had  lifted  her  beautiful  willing  face  to  his  — 

As  he  stepped  upon  the  threshold,  the  door 
opened  and  he  dashed  in.  The  library  por- 
tieres were  parted,  and  he  entered  ecstatically. 
There  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  in  the  dark 
chair,  which  she  had  not  left  since  she  first 
sank  into  it,  in  her  white  dress,  with  her 
white  face  —  and  the  wounded    dog    in   her 


TRIXY  193 

arms  —  she  sat,  awaiting  her  lover.  She  had 
covered  the  spaniel  with  one  end  of  her  tweed 
coat ;  her  hat  and  white  veil  still  lay  on  the 
floor  at  her  feet.  At  first,  Steele  did  not  see 
the  dog.  He  strode  across  the  thick  carpet  and 
stood  over  her,  bending  for  his  betrothal  kiss. 

He  stopped.  Her  appearance  startled  him. 
She  looked  like  a  woman  who  has  been 
shocked  from  youth  into  middle  life.  She 
gave  him  one  wan  smile.  Impetuous  inquiries, 
passionate  protestations  surged  to  his  lips ; 
but  these  never  crossed  them. 

For  now  he  looked  down.  He  saw  the 
sleeping  dog,  whose  marred  head  was  not  cov- 
ered. He  recognized  his  own  work.  Spurred 
by  one  of  the  fatuous  impulses  which  drag 
out  into  the  open  the  one  thing  that  above 
all  others  a  man  wishes  to  conceal,  Olin  Steele 
uttered  these  extraordinary  words  : 

"  Why,  that 's  my  dog  !  Where  did  you  get 
it  ?  I  've  been  all  the  morning  hunting  for  it." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  Miriam, 
with  ominous  distinctness.  "  The  dog  is  mine. 
This  is  Caro.  I  lost  him  two  years  ago.  I 
thought  he  was  dead.  I  never  cared  for  any 
other  dog." 


194  TEIXY 

Her  eyes  widened  slowly.  She  raised  them 
to  his  face ;  it  was  as  ashen  as  her  own.  She 
read  —  what  did  she  not  read  in  his  tortured 
countenance  ? 

Horror  and  despair  confronted  each  other. 
The  man  threw  up  a  hand  as  if  to  fend  off 
the  shock  that  paralyzed  every  thought,  every 
explanation.  As  he  did  so,  he  took  a  step 
backwards ;  he  could  not  speak ;  his  lips 
refused  to  open.  A  power  greater  than  any 
that  he  had  ever  acknowledged  compelled 
him.  Her  stricken  eyes  pursued  him  —  nay, 
they  forced  him  out  of  the  room.  She  had 
not  spoken  another  word  ;  but  he  went.  He 
had  come  like  a  god ;  he  went  like  a  cur. 

Philip  Surbridge  approached  Miss  Lauriat's 
house,  happily  humming  a  tune ;  he  found  it 
was  the  pretty  air  that  Dan  used  to  sing  with 
Trixy.  Miriam  heard  it  before  he  rang,  and 
her  whirling  brain  seemed  to  stop  spinning. 
He  was  shown  directly  into  the  room,  and 
found  her  as  Steele  had  left  her.  Her  white 
dress,  with  its  black  finish  of  velvet  at  the 
throat,  had  a  dark  stain  over  the  heart. 

One  glance  at  the  burden  on  her  lap  ex- 


TRIXY  195 

plained  everything  to  Philip,  and  it  was  like 
him  to  ask  no  unnecessary  questions.  His 
own  color  changed,  but  the  man  seemed  to 
fortify  himself  for  a  position  in  which  his 
heart  and  his  head  must  race  together. 

"  Philip,"  began  Miriam  brokenly.  "  Oh, 
Philip  "  — 

"  You  need  not  try  to  explain  anything," 
said  Philip  gently.  "  I  understand.  I  under- 
stand it  all." 

"  But  Dr.  Steele  says  —  what  does  Dr. 
Steele  mean  ?  " 

"  So  Steele  has  been  here,  has  he  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  he  came  —  yes ;  he  did  not  —  did 
not  stay." 

"  Then  it  is  all  out.  I  suppose  in  that  case 
I  may  as  well  speak,  now.  Shall  I?  Do  you 
wish  me  to  ?  —  Or  not  ?  It  is  for  you  to 
say  what  I  shall  do  in  these  difficult  circum- 
stances." 

"  You  must  !  "  cried  Miriam.  "  I  must 
know  the  worst."  In  her  vehemence  she 
aroused  the  dog,  who  stirred  and  looked  at 
her  drowsily.  Philip  drew  his  chair  close  to 
hers,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  tenderly 
patted  her  hand. 


196  TRIXY 

He  spoke  a  few  encouraging  words  ;  what, 
he  hardly  knew ;  what,  she  scarcely  heard. 
He  tried  to  convince  her  that  the  worst  was 
over ;  and  nothing  more  to  fear.  But  Miriam 
interrupted  impatiently. 

"  Nothing  but  the  whole  truth  will  help 
me  now.  And  there  is  nobody  but  you  to 
give  it  to  me." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Philip  in  a  changed  tone. 
"  You  shall  have  it  then.  Here  it  is."  He 
drew  out  from  his  pocket  a  beautiful  silver 
collar,  tarnished  and  bent.  The  plate  had  not 
been  removed,  and  it  bore  this  inscription  : 


Cako.     Licensed.     No.  2001. 
Miriam  Lauriat. 


The  town,  and  the  street  and  number  were 
added,  but  these  were  less  easy  to  decipher. 

"  I  was  in  the  Galen  Laboratory  this  morn- 
ing," said  Philip,  with  cold,  legal  precision. 
"I  was  there  upon  a  professional  errand.  I 
will  tell  you  about  that,  later.  In  the  course 
of  my  investigations,  I  picked  up  this.  It  had 
been  pulled  out  from  among  some  rubbish  in 
a  closet  —  but  recently  disturbed,  I  am  sure 
—  and   fortunately  no   one  had  noticed  it." 


TRIXY  197 

He  laid  the  collar  in  Miriam's  trembling  hand. 
Her  fingers  closed  over  it  spasmodically.  She 
uttered  an  inarticulate  sound. 

"  Shall  I  go  on  ?  "  asked  Philip,  choking. 

He  did  so  at  command  of  her  streaming 
eyes.  His  voice  had  now  become  stern  and 
solemn ;  it  had  something  of  the  note  which 
it  struck  when  he  was  pleading  a  grave 
case. 

"  Galen  College  prides  itself  upon  its  physi- 
ological department.  The  basis  of  modern 
physiology  is  animal  experimentation.  This 
means  the  dissection  of  living  animals.  Caro 
has  been  in  that "  —  Philip  caught  his  breath 
—  "  in  that  laboratory.  What  happened  to 
him  the  first  year,  I  cannot  tell  you ;  there 
may  be  some  scars  that  will.  He  is  a  special 
case ;  he  is  their  most  valuable  subject.  For 
the  last  twelve  months  he  has  been  reserved 
for  a  series  of  experiments  upon  the  brain. 
These  have  probably  —  you  must  be  prepared 
for  that  —  affected  his  intelligence.  He  es- 
caped from  there  this  morning ;  how  I  do 
not  know,  but  I  have  my  guess.  The  pro- 
fessor who  has  charge  of  that  department  is 
writing  a  prize  essay  along  the  line  of  this 


198  TRIXY 

particular  research.  The  prize  was  offered  by 
the  medical  society  of  which  he  is  an  officer. 
It  would  have  made  him  famous.  He  is  con- 
sidered the  leading  physiologist  in  the  state, 
if  not  in  the  country,  and  this  kind  of  thing 
has  made  him  so." 

Surbridge  paused,  and  looked  at  Miriam 
with  a  pity  which  she  could  not  have  borne 
from  any  other  human  being. 

"  His  name,"  concluded  her  old  friend 
beneath  his  breath  —  "  I  do  not  think  I  need 
to  tell  you  what  it  is." 

Miriam,  with  the  collar  in  her  hand,  had 
laid  her  head  back  against  the  tall  chair.  She 
had  grown  very  pale,  and  gasped.  Philip 
sprang  for  the  bell. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,"  she  said  feebly.  "  I 
shan't  faint.    You  know  I  never  do." 

"  Now  look  here."  Philip  spoke  in  a  com- 
fortable, matter-of-fact  tone.  "  Just  listen  to 
me.  You  've  got  Caro  back,  and  that 's  the 
main  thing.  Let  me  look  at  him."  He  bent 
over  her  and  tenderly  examined  the  dog.  She 
heard  his  cheerful  voice  go  briskly  on.  "  It 
seems  worse  than  it  is  because  the  bandage 
was  evidently  torn  off.    You  '11  feel  better  to 


TRIXY  199 

have  him  looked  after,  however.  I  '11  send  a 
nice  fellow  I  know  around  to  fix  him  up.  He 
has  a  good,  big  heart  and  loves  dogs.  — 
Maggie "  —  he  turned  with  the  smile  that 
made  servants  respect  themselves,  and  affec- 
tionately obey  him  — "  Miss  Lauriat  has  had  a 
great  shock  and  strain  on  account  of  this  poor 
little  fellow." 

Miriam's  grateful  eyes  thanked  him  for 
the  delicate  elision  by  which  he  ignored 
the  fact  that  she  was  doubly  smitten.  But 
her  lips  said  nothing.  Surbridge  did  all  the 
talking,  and  in  his  quiet  way  he  covered 
a  great  deal  of  ground  with  a  very  few 
words. 

"  Get  her  some  luncheon  at  once,  Maggie. 
She  is  going  to  eat  it  —  Oh,  yes,  she  is. 
And  then  we  're  going  to  talk  a  little  more. 
I  've  got  lots  of  things  to  say." 

Miriam  now  looked  down,  and  for  the  first 
time  perceived  the  crimson  stain  across  her 
heart.  She  shuddered,  and  muttered  some- 
thing about  changing  her  dress. 

"  I  '11  hold  Caro,"  said  Philip  easily.  "  He  '11 
remember  me,  and  when  you  come  down  I  've 
got   some    news   to   tell   you.    You  'd  better 


200  TEIXY 

hurry  —  or  no,  I  '11  run  over  to  my  rooms  a 
minute,  and  be  back  by  the  time  you  've  got 
something  to  eat." 

When  Philip  returned  he  found  Miriam 
quiet,  but  not  yet  quite  self-possessed.  The 
dog,  who  had  been  gently  and  intelligently 
treated,  was  sleeping  in  his  own  old  basket, 
which  she  had  drawn  up  close  to  her  feet 
upon  the  hem  of  her  dress. 

"  Why,  how  happy  you  look,"  she  began  in 
a  hurt  tone.  Miriam  was  so  used  to  Philip's 
perennial  sympathy  that  it  struck  her  as 
contrary  to  the  laws  of  their  nature  that  he 
should  be  in  such  good  spirits,  when  she  was 
so  miserable. 

"  Come,"  demanded  Philip.  "  What  are  you 
moping  about?  You  and  Dan  ought  to  be 
the  happiest  people  in  the  world." 

Now  Surbridge,  whose  keen  perception  had 
grasped  the  fact  that  nothing  would  lift 
Miriam  from  the  pit  of  suffering  into  which 
she  had  been  plunged  but  the  joys  or  the  sor- 
rows of  another  soul,  leaped  at  once  into  his 
exciting  story. 

"  Trixy  's  found  !  "  he  exploded.  "  I  can't 
keep  it  to  myself  any  longer,  no  matter  what 


TRIXY  201 

else  has  happened.  I  can't  and  I  won't. 
We  've  got  her." 

"  Trixy  found!"  Miriam's  tears  started 
again.  Philip,  who  had  never  seen  her  thus 
broken,  yearned  over  her  for  her  very  weak- 
ness, and  turned  his  head  away  with  a  gulp. 
But  the  girl's  tears  ran  into  a  radiant  smile 
—  the  first  that  he  had  seen  that  day.  He 
had  not  misread  her.  She  would  lose  herself 
at  any  time  to  find  another's  happiness.  That 
was  Miriam  Lauriat. 

"  You  don't  tell  me  how !  You  don't  say 
where !  "  she  repeated  in  a  stronger  voice. 

"  In  the  laboratory  of  Galen  Medical 
School,"  answered  Surbridge  in  a  reverberat- 
ing tone. 

"  Was  it  like "  —  Miriam  glanced  at  the 
dog  at  her  feet. 

"  No,  thank  God  !  Not  a  devil  of  them  had 
touched  her.  I  was  just  in  time.  —  Now  look 
here."  Philip  fell  back  upon  his  favorite 
phrase.  "  I  've  got  a  good  deal  to  tell,  and 
I  'm  groins;  to  sit  down  and  condense  it.  Sure 
you  are  able  to  hear  it  all?" 

Miriam's  blazing  eyes  impetuously  bade  him 
go  on.   She  had  quite  done  crying.    Her  name- 


202  TEIXY 

sake,  the  prophetess  of  old,  might  have  had 
something  of  the  look  which  now  confronted 
the  young  lawyer ;  it  was  the  forecasting,  far- 
seeing  look  —  deep  at  the  iris,  and  mystical 
in  the  pupil  —  the  look  that  overthrows  the 
past,  and  shapes  the  future,  and  obliterates 
self  in  both. 

Mistily  it  seemed  to  Miriam  that  she  and 
they  whose  lives  had  been  woven  into  the 
fabric  of  her  own  —  yes,  and  that  other,  the 
"  gentle  fellow-creature  "  who  lay  mangled  at 
her  feet  —  were  sweeping  into  the  onward 
movement  of  strange  forces  that  she  did  not 
understand  and  coidd  not  measure,  but  against 
whose  mighty  action  she  might  not,  if  she 
would,  contend. 

For  one  exalted  moment  her  individual 
pang,  the  disorder  of  her  personal  story  seemed 
to  go  out  of  consequence,  or  out  of  sight.  She 
was  like  one  who,  for  the  first  time,  setting 
foot  into  an  unknown  world  of  unimagined 
woe,  finds  her  whole  being  uplifted  by  a  pas- 
sion of  sympathy  before  which  all  passion  less 
divine  retreats. 

"  Oh,  you  've  got  lots  of  pluck ! "  said  Philip. 
"  You  're  clear  grit.    Now  let 's  have  it  over." 


TRIXY  203 

Philip  pushed  into  his  story,  which  he  told 
in  his  curt,  professional  tone. 

"  You  see  I  had  my  theory  from  the  first, 
but  a  lawyer  has  no  case  till  he  gets  his 
evidence.  There  was  a  lamentable  lack  of 
witnesses,  until  —  guess  who  supplied  the 
deficiency  ?  —  No,  I  'm  sure  you  never  will.  — 
Cady's  Molly." 

"  In  that  red  shirt  waist  and  pink  hair-rib- 
bon ? "  asked  Miriam,  laughing  in  spite  of 
herself,  —  "and  yellow  hat ?  Or  was  it  the 
purple  tam-o'-shanter  ?  " 

"  There  you  have  me.  Both,  I  think,  — 
but  the  evidence  lapses  there.  With  Cady's 
Molly  went  Cady's  Molly's  father.  As  luck 
had  it,  this  gallant  widower  invited  your  con- 
sumptive protegee  to  accompany  him,  and  with 
the  woman,  invited  or  uninvited,  went  the 
melancholy  dog  who  has  the  cough.  That 
dismal  creature  was  the  first  to  see  Trixy. 
He  was  after  her  —  the  woman  after  him  — 
the  man  after  the  woman  — and  Cady's  Molly, 
who  began  in  the  rear  —  you  know  what  long 
legs  she  has,  the  grasshopper  sort  ?  —  Well, 
Cady's  Molly  came  out  ahead  of  the  lot  of 
them,  and  then  they  saw  this  dog-bandit  — 


204  TRIXY 

no,  we  have  n't  got  Mm,  more 's  the  pity,  but 
that's  the  minor  point  —  leading  Trixy  by  a 
string.  But,  you  see,  she  was  so  dirty  and 
disreputable  they  were  n't  sure  enough  of  her 
to  make  the  claim  till  it  was  too  late.  She 
must  have  had  on  that  coat  of  hers  —  there 's 
no  other  explanation  —  but  they  did  n't  all  of 
them  see  it ;  it  was  growing  pretty  dark,  they 
say.    Anyhow,  they  shadowed  the  bandit." 

"The  whole  party?" 

"  The  whole  party.  That  gave  me  three 
witnesses  —  four,  if  you  counted  the  coughing 
dog.  If  dogs  could  testify  and  sue  —  perhaps 
we  may  come  to  that  yet.  Well,  the  first 
they  knew,  the  bandit  was  dragging  Trixy  up 
the  alley  behind  the  medical  school.  They 
saw  her  go  in  —  they'll  swear  they  saw  her 
go  in  —  and  she  never  came  out  until  I  took 
her  out  this  morning. 

"  You  know  how  it  is  with  those  peoj^le ; 
they  can't  originate ;  they  don't  dare  do 
anything  unusual.  They  waited  imtil  they 
saw  Dan ;  and  Dan  waited  till  he  saw  me. 
Then,  that  night  —  why,  it  was  only  last 
night  !  —  poor  Dan  came  to  my  room  with 
her  little  blue  coat.    He  had  been  prowling 


TRIXY  205 

around,  God  knows  where !  He  found  it  in 
an  ash  barrel  under  that  porch — I  don't  sup- 
pose you  ever  noticed  it?  —  where  there  is 
a  low  door.  Anyhow,  I  've  got  the  coat,  and 
the  chain  of  evidence  was  completed.  There 
is  n't  a  missing  link.  I  went  to  the  laboratory 
this  morning,  and  demanded  the  dog." 

"  Were  they  willing  to  let  you  in  ?  "  asked 
Miriam  uneasily. 

"  Oh,  I  did  n't  raise  that  question.  I  did  n't 
think  it  was  necessary.  The  case  was  too 
complete,  and  I  told  them  so.  I  took  the  pre- 
caution to  swear  out  a  search  warrant,  but  I 
did  n't  think  it  would  be  necessary  to  use  it ; 
and  it  was  n't.  Well,  yes,  I  think  they  did 
their  best ;  they  put  up  a  pretty  good  bluff.  I 
searched  that  building  from  attic  to  cellar. 
In  the  basement  there  was  a  coat  closet,  and 
the  door  open  —  the  rubbish  all  topsy-turvy. 
That  was  where  I  found  the  collar,  —  it 
seemed  to  have  been  dragged  out.  The  very 
last  thing  I  struck  was  Dr.  Bernard's  private 
laboratory.  I  can't  say  that  my  welcome  was 
strictly  hospitable.  But  I  was  there  to  go  in, 
and  in  I  went.  Trixy  was  —  well,  anyhow, 
I  was  just  in  time." 


206  TRIXY 

"  Where,"  interrupted  Miriam,  with  her  old 
sweet  eagerness,  "  where  was  Dan  ?  " 

"  About  five  feet  and  a  half  behind  me,  I 
should  say,"  replied  Philip,  drawling  a  little, 
as  he  did  sometimes  when  he  was  too  much 
moved  to  be  willing  to  show  it. 

"  Oh,  how  did  he  take  it  ?  What  did  Dan 
do  ?  How  did  he  look  ?  What  did  he  say  ? 
Dear  Dan  !    Poor  Dan  ! " 

"  I  thought  we  had  killed  him  among  us," 
said  Surbridge  gravely.  "  He  held  out  till  I 
put  Trixy  in  his  arms.  Then  he  toppled  over, 
crash !  All  the  doctors  worked  over  him. 
He  kept  them  pretty  busy  for  about  half  an 
hour.  Trixy  kissed  him  all  that  while.  She 
kissed  him  alive,  it's  my  private  opinion.  I 
prophesy  Trixy  won't  flirt  with  her  master 
any  more.  She  's  his  forever,  and  altogether, 
now  —  or  I  've  missed  my  guess.  —  You  don't 
want  to  hear  any  more  of  this,  now."  Philip 
interrupted  himself  abruptly.  "  It 's  all  over. 
Do  you  suppose  you  'd  feel  able  to  see 
them?" 

"Can  I  go?"  cried  Miriam,  rousing  with 
her  own  fervid  look.    "  Is  it  very  far  ?  " 

"  It  might  be  farther,"  observed  Surbridge 


TRIXY  207 

incidentally.  "  You  see  I  took  them  right  to 
my  rooms,  and  kept  them  there  till  just  a 
little  while  ago.  They  're  out  in  the  coach 
house  now  with  Matthew.  We  rode  over  — 
no,  your  horses  were  tired  —  we  came  over  in 
a  cab.    Dan  is  so  used  up." 

"Philip,"  said  Miriam  very  slowly,  "you 
are  a  good  man ;  you  are  a  kind  man. 
I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  without 
you. 

"  Let 's  see  the  pretty  drama  played  out," 
said  Philip.    "  I  '11  go  and  bring  them  up." 

Dan  came  into  the  room  slowly.  His 
wasted  body  had  shrunken  away  from  his 
shabby  clothes,  but  upon  his  face  the  great 
angel  Joy  had  cast  a  blinding  look.  Trixy, 
blinking  happily,  was  in  his  arms.  The 
lad  put  her  down,  went  straight  up  to  the 
lady,  and  kneeled  and  laid  his  head  upon 
her  lap. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Laurie  !  "  sobbed  Dan.  "  Miss 
Laurie,  dear  !  " 

"  Dan,"  Miss  Lauriat  choked,  "  it 's  all  over. 
Mr.  Surbridge  says  so.  And  Mr.  Surbridge 
knows." 


208  TRIXY 

But  Philip  strode  to  the  window,  and  looked 
out  with  wet  and  happy  eyes. 

Now,  when  the  three  human  souls  had  some- 
what recovered  themselves,  they  perceived  that 
a  strange  little  sub-human  by-play  had  been 
going  on  unnoticed  at  their  feet.  For  Trixy, 
forgetting  Surbridge,  ignoring  "  the  lady  she 
loved  best,"  disregarding  her  master,  had 
bounded  to  the  basket  where  the  wounded 
dog  was  lying.  She  crooned  over  him ;  she 
kissed  him  ;  she  leaped  about  him  ;  she  yelped 
at  him  blissfully ;  she  challenged  him  with 
little  slaps  of  her  paws  to  come  out  and  play 
with  her.  The  spaniel  responded  with  a  feeble 
recognition,  and  the  two  nosed  each  other, 
conversing  mysteriously.  What  Trixy  would 
have  said,  who  knows?  And  what  the  muti- 
lated victim  of  physiology  might  have  told, 
we  shall  never  hear.  The  true  interpreter  be- 
tween the  higher  and  the  lower  races  is  yet 
to  be;  and  Trixy  and  her  poor  friend  were 
born  in  advance  of  that  predestined  moral  lin- 
guist. 

The  lawyer  studied  the  two  dogs  with  close 
professional  scrutiny. 

"  They  are  my  best  witnesses,"  he  said  in  a 


TEIXY  209 

disappointed  tone,  "and  there  isn't  a  court 
in  the  state  where  I  can  subpoena  them." 

It  was  still  early  in  the  evening  when  Dr. 
Steele  called  again,  peremptorily  asking  for 
Miss  Lauriat ;  but  she  had  already  gone  up- 
stairs for  the  night.  Maggie  told  him  that 
she  was  too  tired  to  be  disturbed,  and  he 
went  away  without  a  word.  In  fact,  though 
this  the  doctor  did  not  know,  the  agitated 
household  was  on  picket  duty.  Reporters  had 
been  ringing  for  three  hours. 

Surbridge,  whose  winning  manner  made  him 
immediately  popular  with  the  newspaper  men, 
had  stood  between  Miriam  and  these  intruders. 
"  Leave  them  all  to  me,"  he  said.  The  next 
morning's  press  was  busy  with  the  story  of 
Dan  and  Trixy ;  but,  although  there  were 
vague  suggestions  of  an  interplay  in  which 
actors  from  high  life  were  involved,  the  lady's 
name  was  quite  kept  out  of  the  affair.  Sur- 
bridffe's  was  not.  The  unusual  character  of 
the  case,  and  the  implication  of  a  famous  in- 
stitution, gave  publicity  to  the  incident.  The 
press  assumed  the  responsibility  of  suggesting 
that  an  important  suit  might  follow  the  dra- 


210  TRIXY 

matic  release  of  the  little  dog.  The  uncom- 
promising attitude  of  the  young  attorney  in 
pitting  himself  against  the  tremendous  influ- 
ence of  the  college  for  the  sake  of  a  poor 
boy's  pet  concentrated  upon  him  attention 
and  respect. 

This  brought  Aunt  Cornelia. 


CHAPTER  XI 

The  great  crises  of  a  man's  life  may  be  of 
his  own  making,  or  may  be  inflicted  upon 
him  by  a  wayward  accident,  but  the  most 
perplexing  are  those  that  combine  his  fault 
and  his  fortune.  Olin  Steele  watched  the 
night  out.  Raving  against  fate,  he  acknow- 
ledged that  he  was  the  Samson  of  his  destruc- 
tion. With  his  own  hands  he  had  wrenched 
the  pillars  of  his  life,  and  had  brought  the 
structure  crashing  on  his  head. 

His  first  impulse  was  one  of  defiance  ;  such 
was  his  nature.  His  feeling  that  he  was  an 
unjust  victim  of  circumstances  blazed  until 
midnight.  His  consciousness  that  he  believed 
himself  to  be  the  high  priest  of  an  august 
science,  his  subtle  delusion  that  he  had  been 
the  servant  of  humanity,  bore  him  through 
the  first  skirmishes  of  the  struggle  upon 
which  he  had  entered.  His  colleagues  re- 
spected him  ;  his  students  deified  him ;  the 
woman  he  loved  spurned  him  —  how  was  he 


212  TRIXY 

to  coordinate  these  clashing  facts?  His  char- 
acter was  irreproachable,  his  position  unas- 
sailable ;  he  was  a  good  son  and  a  good 
churchman.  The  Bishop  of  his  diocese  was 
his  personal  and  admiring  friend ;  society 
and  religion,  as  he  understood  religion,  up- 
held him  in  his  life's  work.  He  was  fortified 
at  every  point.  The  only  weak  spot  in  the 
ramparts  was  the  nature  of  the  girl  he  loved. 
Other  women  whom  he  knew  would  have  for- 
given him,  or  so  he  thought.  He  ground  his 
teeth  and  cursed  his  luck.  If  he  had  finished 
those  experiments  he  would  have  been  famous. 
His  reputation  would  have  leaped  beyond  the 
confines  of  his  college  —  and  indeed,  of  his 
country.  Experimenters  and  biologists  had 
been  expecting  brilliant  discoveries  of  him, 
nor  would  he  have  disappointed  them. 

And  it  was  only  a  dog  ! 

He  paced  his  room  blindly.  His  heart  was 
hot  within  him.  He  resented  the  infringe- 
ment of  her  delicate  nature  upon  his  profes- 
sional rights.  Once  he  had  called  her  mercy 
made  magic.  Now,  he  felt  her  mercy  made 
tyranny.  Her  position  was  sentimental  and 
unscientific  ;  he  flung  these  unsparing  words 


TRIXY  213 

at  her ;  they  were  the  catchwords  of  his  pro- 
fession, and  came  easily.  How  could  she 
measure  the  value  of  his  great  work  ?  How 
could  she  presume  to  set  the  life  of  a  dog, 
or  the  discomfort  (that  was  his  word)  of  a 
dog,  against  the  vast  research  which  might 
overthrow  the  conclusions  of  continental  phy- 
siologists ? 

Warring  with  the  medical  oligarchy  which 
he  represented,  this  one  girl  opposed  her 
womanhood,  and  her  humanity.  True,  her  lips 
had  not  uttered  a  word ;  hut  he  knew  their 
speech  and  language.  He  knew  that  he  was 
condemned  without  a  hearing ;  he  knew  that 
he  was  foredoomed  at  the  tribunal  of  her  soul. 
Under  this  verdict  he  raged.  Yet,  with  this 
fever  the  other  rage  of  his  love  beat  on. 

Strange  impulses,  born  of  his  arbitrary 
nature,  fostered  by  his  merciless  calling, 
seized  him  with  a  force  before  which  he 
stood  aghast.  Rather  than  lose  her,  he  felt 
as  if  he  could  have  slain  her.  If  such  a  thing 
had  been  possible,  he  could  have  tortured  her 
into  loving  him.    He  could  have  — 

Olin  Steele  paused.  This  madness,  like 
some  other  forms   of   mania,   ran  its  course 


214  TRIXY 

and  struck  its  revulsion  of  sanity.  In  the 
hours  which  precede  dawn  the  blood  runs 
slowly,  courage  faints,  and  truth  stares  the 
soul  out  of  countenance.  Exhausted,  he  sank 
upon  his  old  lounge.  A  great  reaction  of 
tenderness  enveloped  him.  He  thought  of 
her  sweet,  wan  face — the  horror  in  her  eyes 
—  her  quivering  lips  towards  which  he  had 
stooped  to  take  the  first  kiss.  Why,  they  were 
his,  and  she  was  his,  —  and  what  was  a  dog,  or 
a  theory,  or  an  experiment,  fame,  or  the  world 
to  come  between  them?  By  a  thousand  fold 
she  outweighed  them  all. 

The  subserviency  of  women  had  been  a 
matter  of  course  in  his  philosophy.  His  ideal 
woman  would  have  followed  a  man  to  hell  if 
he  had  chosen  to  lead  her  there,  and  would 
have  stood  by,  adoring,  while  he  did  a  demon's 
work.  If  such  indeed  had  not  been  the  eidolon 
of  his  youth,  he  had  forgotten  that  he  had 
ever  admitted  any  other  to  the  habit  of  his 
mind.  What  was  the  flaw  in  the  philosophy 
that  it  did  not  hold  ? 

Now,  for  the  first  time,  Steele  perceived 
that  there  was  a  theory  above  a  theory,  and  a 
law  beyond  a  law.      Now  he  found    himself 


TRIXY  215 

hurled  to  the  conclusion  that  a  man  has  his 
share  of  the  mutual  surrender  of  the  loving ; 
that  he  must  yield  himself  to  the  angel  in  the 
woman  whom  he  loves. 

He  fought  until  dawn.  The  battle  was  not  to 
the  swift ;  nor  was  it  to  the  strong.  Physically 
weakened,  morally  chastened,  he  would  react 
and  recall  himself,  and  strike  out  powerfully 
at  the  invisible  forces  with  which  he  was  con- 
tending. He  passed  the  remainder  of  the  night 
in  alternations  of  triumph  and  defeat.  Once 
his  lips  moved.  "  She  was  mine,"  they  said, 
"  and  mine  she  shall  be." 

Everywhere  that  he  turned  he  came  up 
against  finality.  To  every  question  that  he 
put  he  was  answered  only  yea  or  nay.  The 
conflict  took  him  to  the  uppermost  spaces, 
and  to  the  nethermost  deeps.  He  swung  from 
star  to  sod,  and  back  again.  The  vibrations 
shook  him,  soul  and  body. 

As  the  light  looked  gravely  in  at  his  win- 
dow, from  profound  exhaustion  he  fell  asleep, 
and  slept  for  perhaps  an  hour.  When  he 
awoke,  his  thoughts  had  clarified.  "It  is 
between  the  two,"  he  said,  "  and  I  must  make 
my  choice." 


216  TRIXY 

He  bathed  and  dressed  scrupulously  ;  it  was 
as  if  he  were  some  novitiate  purifying*  himself 
for  an  unknown  life.  He  breakfasted  slowly 
and  rested  a  while  ;  he  did  not  smoke,  and 
read  no  papers ;  he  did  not  visit  his  labora- 
tory ;  for  the  first  time  he  thought  of  it  with 
a  species  of  repugnance  as  of  the  thing  that 
stood  between  himself  and  her.  Towards  the 
middle  of  the  morning,  pale  but  confident,  he 
sought  her. 

Miriam  received  him  quietly.  He  was 
relieved  to  find  that  the  dog  was  not  in  the 
room,  and  opened  the  interview  with  the  more 
assurance  on  this  account. 

"  You  seem  ill,"  he  began.  "  You  have  not 
slept." 

"  It  was  hardly  to  be  expected." 

Miriam  did  not  look  at  him.  The  evasion 
of  her  eyes  troubled  him,  and  he  plunged  at 
once  into  his  exculpation. 

"  I  have  come  to  say  —  you  must  under- 
stand —  it  was  most  unfortunate  —  I  am  over- 
whelmed with  the  accident.  I  suffer  in  conse- 
quence of  it  —  believe  me  —  as  much  as  you." 

For  the  first  time  since  he  had  known  her, 
the  swift  sympathy  on  which  he  had  come  to 


TRIXY  217 

count  as  he  counted  on  her  delicacy  or  her 
loyalty,  failed  to  respond  to  his  touch.  She 
was  like  a  violin  in  which  one  string  was 
broken.  He  drew  his  bow  over  it  in  vain 
Her  face,  like  her  nature,  hardened  before 
him.  He  started  to  make  some  inquiries  about 
the  dog",  but  saved  himself  just  in  time  from 
committing  this  folly. 

"  You  don't  understand  the  situation,"  he 
resumed ;  "  you  do  me  an  injustice.  You  don't 
appreciate  the  immense  value  of  my  work. 
These  experiments  have  to  go  on.  We  must 
have  subjects  —  if  not  animal,  then  human ; 
it 's  a  clear  choice.  There  was  n't  one  chance 
in  a  million  that  —  I  did  n't  know  that  it  was 
your  dog  !    You  know  I  did  n't !  " 

"  You  knew,"  said  Miriam  coldly,  "  that  it 
was  somebody's  dog  —  a  cherished  one.  He 
was  gentle.  He  was  high-bred.  —  And  there 
was  this."  She  drew  the  tarnished  silver  collar 
from  her  pocket,  and  with  shaking  fingers 
put  it  into  his  hand. 

Steele's  white  face  turned  a  ghastly  gray. 

"  I  give  you  my  word  I  never  saw  this 
before ! " 

"  Are  you  not  the  head  of  your  depart- 


218  TRIXY 

ment?  Where  does  the  responsibility  lie  if 
not  on  you?  This  collar  came  out  of  your 
laboratory  yesterday  morning.  How  many 
other  lost  dogs  have  the  faculty  of  Galen 
College  unlawfully  taken  besides  mine  ?  " 

"  Our  subordinates  have  charge  of  such 
matters,"  protested  Steele,  smarting  under  her 
lashing  words.  "  We  are  busy  men.  We  can- 
not attend  to  these  details.  How  should  we 
know  where  our  subjects  come  from?  The 
experiments  must  go  on.  You  take  a  very 
feminine  view  of  the  circumstances." 

"  I  would  n't  be  a  man  —  such  a  man  —  do 
such  a  thing  — make  such  an  excuse  for  a  deed 
like  this  —  not  for  all  that  you  call  fame  !  " 

He  reddened  painfully  under  her  scorn. 
"  You  set  the  animal  above  the  human  race  !  " 
he  cried. 

"  What  if  it  had  been  Barry? "interrupted 
Miriam  quietly. 

Steele's  eyelids  almost  imperceptibly 
drooped,  but  his  dogmatic  voice  pushed  on : 

"  What  is  one  dog  —  what  are  ten  thou- 
sand dogs  compared  with  the  life  of  one 
baby  ?  "  he  demanded  fiercely. 

Miriam  now  turned  her  averted  head,  and, 


TRIXY  219 

for  the  first  time  that  morning1,  looked  him 
straight  in  the  eyes.  The  misery  in  them  held 
her  rising  denunciation  back. 

"  You  have  tormented  many  dogs.  How 
many,  I  do  not  want  to  know.  Have  you  ever 
saved  the  life  of  one  baby  ?  Oh,  I  have  seen 
men  do  that,  down  among'  my  poor  people  — 
good  plain  doctors  —  kind  men,  giving  their 
lives  for  sick  children.  How  many  did  you 
say  you  have  saved  ?  " 

"  But  I  might  have !  I  should  have.  I 
was  on  the  eve  of  great  discoveries.  This 
unfortunate  mishap  has  overthrown  them 
all." 

Miriam's  tender  lip  curled.  This  was  a 
sight  that  he  had  never  seen  before,  and  it 
forced  this  outcry  from  him  :  "  Your  judgment 
is  distorted !  You  set  that  creature  above  me. 
You  value  him  more  than  you  value  me.  You 
care  for  him  more  !  " 

"  Why  should  I  dispute  you  ?  It  is  quite 
true  that  I  love  my  dog  more  than  it  is  pos- 
sible for  any  one  who  could  —  treat  him  —  as 
you  have  done  —  to  understand." 

"  You  never  loved  me  !  "  Steele  vehemently 
challenged  her. 


220  TRIXY 

"  Oh,  I  thought  I  did,"  she  answered 
drearily.  "  Don't  blame  me.  I  thought  I 
did."   * 

The  man  arose.  The  muscles  of  his  face 
were  taut. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  will  allow 
this  to  come  between  us  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  help  it  ?  "  she  cried.  "  I  loved 
another  kind  of  man." 

Steele  strode  up  and  down  the  room.  His 
strong  head,  his  stern  chin,  his  professional 
bearing  seemed  to  have  no  part  in  the  turmoil 
of  his  passion.  They  seemed  to  stand  aloof 
from  it,  and  to  criticise  it,  as  if  they  mocked 
his  plight.  Once  he  heard  her  say  beneath 
her  quickened  breath : 

"  You  would  have  known  the  voice  of  your 
own  dog.  So  did  I  —  that  day  —  at  the  art 
school." 

Miriam  had  now  arisen.  The  vivisector  and 
the  woman  confronted  each  other.  Her  a^ita- 
tion  was  as  great  as  his.  The  infinite  pity  of 
her  nature  did  not  desert  her  even  then.  He 
felt  himself  compassionated  while  he  read  his 
doom  in  her  eyes. 

"  Why  should  we  talk  any  longer  ? "  she 


TRIXY  221 

said  with  that  finality  of  manner  against  which 
a  gentleman  does  not  argue.  "  It  only  makes 
it  —  hard  —  for  both  of  us." 

Before  she  could  measure  the  effect  of  her 
words  Steele's  towering  figure  seemed  to  blur 
before  her  like  a  swaying  statue.  Before  she 
could  prevent  him  he  had  dropped  to  his 
knees ;  and  this  unimagined  action  had  in  it 
a  certain  dignity,  and  commanded  a  kind  of 
respect  which  the  most  flippant  spirit  would 
not  have  refused  him. 

Olin  Steele  held  up  his  hands,  and  so  grasp- 
ing both  of  hers,  he  entreated  her  ;  one  would 
have  said  not  that  he  poured  out  his  love  so 
much  as  that  he  lifted  it,  a  worship  ennobled 
by  despair,  and  offered  as  much  in  belated 
justice  to  himself  as  in  hope  of  melting  her. 

"  I  '11  be  whatever  you  loved !  "  he  pleaded. 
"  I  will  become  the  man  you  can  love !  Name 
the  price  of  your  forgiveness  !  I  will  pay  it  to 
the  uttermost !  " 

Miriam,  mute  and  miserable,  shook  her  head. 

"I  will  abandon  it  —  all,"  cried  Steele.  "I 
will  give  up  experimentation.  I  will  resign  my 
professorship.  I  will  fling  away  my  ambition 
—  everything  that  I  hoped  to  do.   I  will  begin 


222  TRIXY 

all  over  again.  I  will  become  a  plain  doctor 
and  heal  the  sick.   All  I  want  is  you." 

The  man  stopped.  His  lips  trembled  before 
the  miracle  of  the  vows  that  he  had  uttered. 
Reverently  he  pressed  his  face  into  her  hands, 
which  he  was  still  holding,  and  he  left  upon 
them  the  kiss  of  consecration  that  a  perfect 
love  offers  to  a  woman  whether  she  be  won 
or  lost. 

But  Miriam  was  silent.  Her  wide  eyes  were 
as  wretched  as  his.  With  a  gentle,  maternal 
movement  she  drew  him  to  his  feet,  and  re- 
leased her  hands. 

"  You  make  it  so  hard  —  You  make  it  so 
hard  !  "  she  breathed. 

Her  fathomless  tenderness,  her  solemn 
beauty,  all  the  lost  preciousness  of  her, 
flooded  his  being  with  an  anguish  like  a 
mortal  pain. 

"  You  torture  me  ! "  he  groaned. 

"  Oh,  no  !  Oh,  no  ! "  she  gasped.  "  I  do 
forgive  you  for  this.  May  God  go  Avith  you  — 
if  you  do  what  you  say  —  what  you  mean 
—  but  I  cannot." 

Now  Dr.  Steele  uttered  these  uncontrollable 
words : 


TRIXY  223 

"  You  are  more  cruel  to  me  than  I  was  to 
that  dog.    You  vivisect  me." 

Miriam  caught  her  breath.  It  was  as  if  the 
recording  angel  had  read  from  the  Book  of 
Life  a  sentence  in  an  unknown  tongue,  and 
challenged  her  soul  to  translate  it.  She  felt 
how  easy  it  would  be  to  make  an  eternal  mis- 
take in  that  sacred  language.  But  she  did  not 
flinch.  Slowly  and  kindly  she  stirred  from  his 
side.  She  was  blinded  with  her  tears,  and 
groped  for  the  door.  He  thought  she  said, 
"  Oh,  good-by  —  good-by  !  " 

But  he  was  not  sure. 


CHAPTER  XII 

Mrs.  Percy  B.  Jeffries  arrived  at  the  town 
house  the  next  morning,  and  Miriam  found 
herself  denied  that  luxury  of  solitude  which, 
to  a  nature  like  hers,  is  the  first  craving  of 
acute  trouble.  Perhaps  it  is  one  of  the  values 
of  misfortune  that  it  shall  not  seem  bearable 
until  it  has  become  so  ;  and  not  the  least  of  its 
veiled  advantages,  that  the  superficial  relations 
of  life  must  go  on  in  the  teeth  of  emergency. 

Aunt  Cornelia  found  a  disturbed  house- 
hold, nor  was  she  the  woman  to  soothe  the 
nervous  tension.  She  precipitated  into  the 
electric  atmosphere  the  cook,  the  chamber- 
maid, and  the  laundress.  She  was  surcharged 
with  the  achievements  of  a  forced  flitting,  as 
well  as  with  the  mortification  of  the  necessity 
for  it. 

Before  Mrs.  Jeffries  had  time,  or  perhaps 
before  Miriam  had  given  opportunity,  for  re- 
proaches or  inquiries,  Maggie  brought  in  a 
special  delivery  letter.    This  ran  : 


TRIXY  225 

My  dear  Mrs.  Jeffries  :  Under  the  pre- 
sent painful  circumstances,  of  whose  nature 
you  will  doubtless  by  this  time  have  been  in- 
formed, I  find  myself  under  the  necessity  of 
resigning  the  presidency  of  the  Society  for 
the  Prevention  of  Docking  and  Cropping 
Tails  and  Ears.  That  this  noble  and  neces- 
sary work  will  find  under  your  leadership 
recognition  at  the  hands  of  the  Legislature,  I 
have  no  doubt.  I  am  forced  to  feel  that  my 
connection  with  the  cause  would  be  an  injury 
to  it  now.  With  thanks  to  you  for  your  gen- 
erous hospitality,  and  with  deep  appreciation 
of  the  many  pleasant  hours  that  we  have 
passed  together,  I  am, 

Very  truly  yours, 

Olin  Steele. 

Mrs.  Jeffries  was  about  to  ring  for  Miriam 
to  come  and  explain  this  blasting  communica- 
tion when  she  looked  down  and  perceived  a 
little  white  statuette  on  the  carpet  at  her  feet. 
Trixy  sat  up  in  the  begging  attitude,  but 
there  was  no  beggar  in  her  eyes.  These  re- 
garded Mrs.  Jeffries  complacently,  and  rather 
patronizingly ;  in  fact,  Trixy  had  the  air  of 


226  TKIXY 

being  the  hostess  of  the  occasion.  Mrs.  Jef- 
fries put  on  her  eye-glasses  and  examined  this 
incident.  Her  courtesy  overcame  her  per- 
plexity, and  she  held  out  her  ringed  hand  to 
the  little  dog.  At  this  moment  Dan  limped 
apologetically  in. 

"She  wants  to  shake  hands  with  you,  marm. 
Trixy  's  glad  to  see  you  home  again." 

"  You  mean  paws,"  corrected  Mrs.  Jef- 
fries. 

"  No,  I  don't,"  persisted  Dan,  falling  back 
upon  his  old  phrase.  "  Trixy  don't  know 
she  's  got  paws." 

Dan  picked  up  his  dog,  perched  her  on  his 
crooked  shoulder,  and  left  the  room.  Mrs. 
Jeffries,  going  out  into  the  hall  to  call  Miriam, 
heard  the  lad's  uneven  step  wearily  climbing 
the  back  stairs ;  a  fact  which  at  the  time  she 
but  half  noted. 

"Come  up,  Auntie,"  answered  Miriam. 
"I've  got  something  to  show  you.  I  can't 
talk.  But  if  you  won't  ask  any  questions,  you 
had  better  come  up  and  see." 

What  new  blow  awaited  ?  With  apjn-ehen- 
sion,  Mrs.  Jeffries  mounted  the  stairs.  With 
weariness  in  her  nerves,  and  disapprobation  on 


TRIXY  227 

her  lips,  the  lady  entered  her  niece's  room. 
In  his  basket  before  the  fireplace  lay  the  weak 
and  mangled  spaniel.  Miriam,  in  her  white 
negligee,  was  kneeling  beside  him. 

"  It 's  Caro,  Auntie.  Speak  kindly  to  him. 
Don't  ask  me  a  question.  Philip  will  tell  you. 
Don't  blame  me  for  anything  !" 

The  painful  color  burned  Aunt  Cornelia's 
cheeks. 

"  I  did  n't  know  I  was  as  bad  as  that,  my 
dear."    Then  she  stooped  and  saw. 

A  colder-hearted  woman  than  Mrs.  Jeffries 
might  have  melted  at  the  sight  before  her,  and 
Aunt  Cornelia's  tears  fell  fast  upon  the  mu- 
tilated dog. 

Mrs.  Jeffries  and  her  dearest  lawyer  sat  to- 
gether in  the  library.  It  was  now  mid-after- 
noon, and  Surbridge,  cheerfully  cutting  an 
hour  from  the  busiest  portion  of  his  day,  had 
already  surrendered  himself  to  the  task  of 
soothing  the  soul  of  his  most  adoring  and 
most  difficult  client. 

"Put  yourself  in  my  place,"  said  Aunt 
Cornelia  solemnly. 

"  That,  my  dear  madam,"  returned  Philip 


228  TKIXY 

with  his  perfect  manner,  "  I  have  often  done 

—  with  envy." 

"  There  you  are  —  your  father  all  over 
again.  You  are  very  graceful,  Philip,  but 
you  don't  help  me  out  as  much  as  usual.  If 
you  were  I,  what,  I  should  like  to  know, 
would  you  do  in  this  extraordinary  situa- 
tion?" 

"Accept  it,"  said  Philip  quietly, "  like  the 
grande  dame  you  are." 

"  Yes,  but  not  in  a  minute  —  not  with  a 
gasp.  I  have  n't  even  had  time  for  a  good  cry. 
Here  I  find  the  jDress  of  the  city  busied  with 
our  affairs  —  the  privacy  of  this  household 
endangered  —  that  boy  and  his  poodle  on 
everybody's  lips  —  your  name  in  every  paper 

—  my   niece's   ostentatiously    suppressed.     I 
suppose  we  have  you  to  thank  for  that." 

"Well,  yes,"  drawled  Philip.  "I  did  my 
best." 

"  I  find  Dr.  Steele  pilloried  —  whether  justly 
or  not,  how  do  I  know?  I  find  my  niece's 
imminent  engagement  to  him  indefinitely  post- 
poned. I  find  that  he  has  resigned  the  presi- 
dency of  our  noble  society.  I  am  overwhelmed 
with  the  responsibilities  this  will  bring  upon 


TRIXY  229 

my  poor  head.  I  find  upstairs  —  mysteriously 
returned  to  this  family  —  a  mangled  dog.  I 
find  an  evidently  greater  mystery  behind  him. 
Nobody  tells  me  how  he  came  to  be  as  he  is. 
Miriam  positively  refuses  to  speak  about  him. 
I  must  say,  it  would  have  been  a  great  deal 
better  for  that  child  if  he  had  been  dead  as 
she  thought  he  was." 

Philip  held  up  his  firm  and  gentle  hand, 
as  if  he  were  flagging  a  train.  Mrs.  Jeffries 
slowed  up,  and  in  a  few  quiet  words  the  lawyer 
told  her  the  whole  story. 

Aunt  Cornelia  received  this  recital  as  if  she 
had  been  struck  between  the  eyes.  The  con- 
ventionality of  her  nature  yielded  hard,  and 
she  was  convinced  that  no  lady  in  her  class  of 
society  had  ever  been  put  in  such  an  embar- 
rassing position.  She  found  it  not  quite  natu- 
ral to  suppose  that  Miriam  was  not,  somehow, 
to  blame. 

"  If  you  had  been  in  her  place,"  urged 
Philip,  "  with  your  youth  and  beauty,  and 
your  warm  heart  "  — 

"Well,"  admitted  Aunt  Cornelia,  "I  sup- 
pose I  should  have  done  the  same  thing." 

"  Of  course  you  would  ! "  insisted  Philip, 


230  TRIXY 

in  his  convincing  tone.  "  Knowing  you  as  I 
do,  I  should  not  even  raise  the  question." 

"  But,  Philip,  there  is  one  thing  more  — 
and  I  have  left  that  to  the  last  on  purpose. 
I  go  up  into  the  attic,  and  I  find  that  boy  from 
the  slums  apparently  established  there  with 
his  poodle.  I  ask  him  if  he  is  making  another 
visit,  and  he  says,  No,  he  is  staying.  I  have 
not  approached  Miriam  at  all  upon  this  painful 
subject.  I  feel  it  too  keenly.  I  am  getting  to 
be  an  old  woman,  and  I  wish  I  were  in  my 
own  home.  I  find  this  house  turned  into  a 
dog  hospital  and  an  orphan  asylum.  I  was  not 
brought  up  to  such  methods  of  life.  Mr.  Jef- 
fries liked  to  live  as  other  people  did ;  our 
tastes  were  in  perfect  accord." 

Philip  got  up  and  put  his  hand  upon  his 
client's  shoulder  with  that  affectionate  and 
protecting  sympathy  to  which  age  is  so  much 
more  sensitive  than  youth. 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Jeffries,  don't  you  see  ?  How 
could  she  do  anythmg  else?  How  coidd  she 
send  the  poor  chap  away  after  what  has  hap- 
pened ?  She  never  would  have  known  an  easy 
hour.  It 's  just  like  her.  She  's  adopted  the 
lad  —  and  Trixy  —  into  the  family." 


TRIXY  231 

"Is  he  going  to  sit  at  the  table?"  de- 
manded Mrs.  Jeffries,  weeping.  "  Or  perhaps 
they  '11  both  sit  at  the  table  ?  She  might  give 
Trixy  a  high  chair.   She  's  capable  of  it." 

Surbridge  lausfhed  outright. 

"  Oh,  Matthew  and  Maggie  have  bespoken 
their  company.  Now,  dear  Mrs.  Jeffries,  there 
is  one  queer  thing  about  it  nobody  can  ex- 
plain. Those  two  dogs  have  met  before  — 
in  fact,  they  are  practically  inseparable.  Any- 
thing that  Caro  wants  in  this  house  the  poor 
fellow  's  likely  to  have,  I  fancy,  for  the  rest 
of  his  life.  And  I  'm  sure  you  would  be  the 
very  last  person  to  wish  to  have  it  other- 
wise." 

Aunt  Cornelia  looked  up,  smiling.  She  had 
that  rare  expression  which  blurs  the  wrinkles 
out  of  an  elderly  face.  No  one  but  Philip 
ever  saw  it. 

"  You  are  a  dear  boy,"  she  said,  "  and  an 
irresistible  pleader.  Like  your  father,  you  '11 
be  a  distinguished  lawyer  some  day.  I  never 
could  withstand  you." 

Philip  did  not  answer,  for  at  that  moment 
Miriam  entered  the  room.  She  had  the  injured 
dog  in  her  arms,  and   Trixy  danced  behind 


232  TRIXY 

her,  like  a  pretty  page,  holding  the  train  of 
her  gown,  and  shaking  it  daintily. 

Miriam  stopped  for  a  moment,  irresolute ; 
then,  advancing,  she  stooped  and  kissed  her 
Aunt  Cornelia,  and  laid  the  spaniel  in  the 
lady's  lustreless  black  silk  lap.  Trixy,  jealous 
of  this  attention,  jumped  up  and  cuddled  be- 
side her  little  friend. 

"Oh,  well,"  sighed  Mrs.  Jeffries,  "Mr. 
Surbridge  says  we  must  make  the  best  of  it, 
Trixy.  Give  me  your  hand.  What  are  you 
laughing  at,  Philip  ?  " 

Philip  pointed  to  the  door,  where  Dan, 
irradiate,  stood  leaning  on  his  crutch.  Dan 
found  it  quite  beyond  the  question  now  to 
have  Trixy  out  of  his  sight ;  for  her,  his  eyes 
had  become  clairvoyant,  his  ears  clairaudient. 
Trixy  had  always  reserved  her  private  doubts 
about  her  master's  omnipotence ;  his  omni- 
presence was  now  a  fact  established  beyond 
reach  of  skepticism. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

The  court-room  was  stifling,  for  the  unsavory 
place  was  full.  A  strange  array  packed  it  to 
the  doors,  and  beyond.  When  had  the  lower 
courts  of  the  city  known  such  an  interplay  of 
human  rank?  The  old  images  of  theology 
occurred  to  more  than  one  person  that  morn- 
ing —  the  visions  of  childhood  as  they  formed 
fearfully  about  the  Day  of  the  Last  Judgment, 
when  "great  and  small"  should  stand  before 
the  Judge.  For,  since  it  had  gone  abroad  that 
a  brilliant  and  daring  young  attorney  (him- 
self of  a  social  status  from  which  one  would 
have  expected  other,  not  to  say  better  things) 
had  proceeded  against  a  great  institution  in 
behalf  of  a  boy  from  the  slums  whose  dog 
was  mysteriously  concerned,  the  extremes  of 
society  had  thronged  to  this  unprecedented, 
to  this  incredible  trial. 

Gentlemen  of  the  clubs  and  of  the  drawing- 
rooms  protected  clusters  of  ladies  who  had 
never  set  their  delicate  feet  in  such  a  spot  be- 


234  TRIXY 

fore.  Fans  and  vinaigrettes  agitated  and 
protested  against  the  polluted  atmosphere  of 
justice  to  which  judge  and  lawyers  were  so 
used  that  they  were  conscious  of  surprise 
at  the  discomfort  experienced  by  the  leisure 
classes. 

Early  seated,  and  crowded  to  the  front,  was 
to  be  noticed  a  group  so  unfamiliar  to,  and 
so  unfamiliar  with  the  criminal  courts  that  it 
attracted  a  curious,  something  like  a  sympa- 
thetic attention.  This  was  an  academic  group 
—  a  few  professors,  the  dean  of  the  involved 
institution,  several  men  bearing  the  unmis- 
takable air  of  trustees,  one  of  the  defend- 
ants (understood  to  be  an  instructor),  and, 
sitting  beside  him  uneasily,  the  janitor  of  the 
medical  school.  The  college  counsel,  a  distin- 
guished lawyer,  had  an  expression  of  patient 
ennui,  as  one  who  regarded  the  occasion 
small  and  irritating,  and  his  case,  in  the 
nature  of  things,  assured.  Physicians  and 
medical  students  of  such  types  as  the  modern 
schools  turn  out  jammed  every  permissible 
space.  Lawyers  were  present  in  considerable 
numbers. 

Uncomfortably  aware  that  they  were  but 


TRIXY  235 

coldly  welcomed  by  "  the  other  half  of  the 
world  "  in  this  extraordinary  scene,  yet  stol- 
idly defiant  of  the  fact,  sat  the  uninfluential, 
the  obscure,  the  children  of  the  poor — whom 
we  are  accustomed  to  forget  until  we  need 
them  —  the  plain  and  powerful  people  whose 
voice  is  apt  to  be  clearer,  and  sure  to  be 
stronger  in  the  moral  note  than  our  own. 

These  had  come  up  to  champion  one  of  them- 
selves—  an  orphan  lad,  at  whose  instance  the 
great  medical  school  was  placed  in  a  position 
hitherto  unimagined,  and  embarrassing  to  an 
obvious  decree. 

The  day  was  cold  (it  was  January)  and  a 
threatened  storm  was  frowning.  The  court- 
room was  not  quite  dark  enough  to  light  arti- 
ficially, but  so  dull  of  tint  that,  when  an  arrow 
of  sun  ran  through  the  army  of  clouds  charg- 
ing across  the  sky,  and  stabbed  a  window, 
the  effect  was  followed  by  every  eye  in  the 
room.  It  so  chanced  that  the  poignant  ray 
struck  the  lame  lad's  attorney,  who  had  at  that 
moment  risen,  and  stood  preeminent  in  the 
brilliance  —  his  tall  height,  his  strong  head, 
his  direct  features  expressing  a  certain  straight- 
forwardness and  manly  sincerity,  a  certain  fear- 


236  TRIXY 

lessness  in  moral  matters  united  to  a  marked 
intellectual  force,  which  commanded  instinc- 
tive respect. 

His  little  client,  who  sat  silent  and  pale  be- 
low him,  stirred  sensitively  as  the  sunlight  faded 
slowly  from  Surbridge's  face  and  figure,  and 
the  boy  glanced  towards  the  rear  of  the  room 
where  his  neighbors  and  friends  from  Blind 
Alley  were  crowded  together.  Among  them, 
yet  clearly  to  the  most  careless  eye  not  of 
them,  a  lady,  closely  veiled,  sheltered  a  small 
object  behind  her  muff.  A  tiny  white  ear, 
cocked  alertly  above  the  dark  fur,  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  little  struggling  white  face,  rebel- 
lious and  determined.  The  lame  boy  held  up 
one  finger,  and  the  little  face  disappeared  from 
sight  as  the  proceedings  of  the  day  began. 

The  preliminaries  were  disposed  of  rather 
quickly,  and  with  that  indifference  to  social 
claims  or  intellectual  position  characteristic  of 
abstract  justice,  and  of  the  concrete  judge  pre- 
siding —  an  eccentric  man,  with  an  irritable 
mouth,  a  kind  eye,  and  an  imperious  manner. 
The  distinguished  scientists  (from  whose  num- 
ber Professor  Steele  was  conspicuously  absent) 
involved    in   this   extraordinary   complication 


TRIXY  237 

were  conscious  of  a  vexed  surprise  at  their 
position.  The  academic  world  is  not  a  wide 
one,  the  scientific  portion  of  it  least  endowed 
with  imagination,  and  neither  experience  nor 
fancy  had  prepared  these  gentlemen  for  a  se- 
rious legal  situation ;  where  the  latest  bacillus 
or  the  new  serum  was  without  palpable  sig- 
nificance, where  the  standards  of  the  lecture- 
room,  the  achievements  of  the  laboratory,  or 
the  reputation  of  a  coterie  went  for  nothing. 
The  fact  that  they  might  go  for  less  than 
nothing  occurred  slowly  to  Dr.  Bernard  (all 
his  mental  processes  were  leisurely)  when  he 
found  himself,  like  any  common,  uninstructed 
fellow,  summoned  to  the  bar. 

The  complaint  was  read  rather  impressively. 
It  was  an  incredibly  vulgar  charge  —  that  of 
receiving  stolen  property.  To  this  Charles 
Claudius  Bernard,  Instructor,  and  Thomas 
Sleigh,  Janitor  of  Galen  Medical  School,  sev- 
erally pleaded  not  guilty :  and  the  trial  pro- 
gressed as  briskly  as  possible. 

Surbridge,  who  handled  the  case  from  the 
outset  in  a  manner  as  unconventional  as  the 
most  conventional  of  professions  allowed  him, 
made  a  brief  and  blazing  opening  of  the  sort 


238  TRIXY 

which  led  lawyers  who  did  not  know  him  to 
whisper :  "  Effective.  But  theatricals  won't 
carry  this  case.    It  needs  a  stone-crusher." 

"  Wait,"  answered  an  elderly  member  of 
the  bar,  "you  '11  have  both  before  he  gets 
through.    I  knew  his  father." 

The  witnesses  for  the  prosecution  were  put 
forward  rapidly  —  it  seemed  to  be  Surbridge's 
purpose  to  avoid  tiring  the  court  —  and,  de- 
layed only  by  the  inevitable  cross-examination, 
these  presented  their  testimony,  on  the  whole, 
with  a  clearness  which  indicated  rather  an 
unusual  drill,  or  unusual  harmony  between 
counsel  and  witness. 

Daniel  Badger  took  his  oath  solemnly,  as 
if  he  had  been  undergoing-  initiation  vows  at 
the  Lodge  of  the  Grand  Mooses.  He  testified 
distinctly  in  his  plaintive  voice.  Now  and  then 
he  gestured  a  little  with  his  crutch ;  he  had  a 
pleasing  expression  of  confidence  in  the  judge, 
not  entirely  lost  upon  his  Honor,  whose  sharp 
lips  curved  into  a  withered  smile  when  the  lad, 
suddenly  overborne  by  the  pathos  of  his  story, 
forgetting  that  he  had  been  directed  only  to 
answer  questions,  leaned  heavily  upon  his 
crutch,  lifted  one  thin  hand  high  in  the  air 


TRIXY  239 

(apparently  under  the  impression  that  he  was 
taking  another  oath),  and,  before  Surbridge 
could  stop  him,  thus  personally  addressed  the 
Bench : 

"  Ye  see,  Judge,  Trixy  she 's  all  I  got. 
Me  V  Trixy  have  n't  anybody  but  her  'n'  me. 
It  was  tumble  to  steal  Trixy.  It  ain't  so  much 
them  shows  and  her  bein'  edoocated  —  you 
never  see  a  dog  know  so  much  as  Trixy  does  — 
an'  folks  have  to  make  a  livin'  —  me  'n'  Trixy 
used  to  make  ourn  before  she  was  took  away 
from  me  that  time.  But  that  ain't  it.  I  'd  'a' 
starved,  Judge,  and  welcome,  any  day,  an'  I 
would  n't  'a'  minded  much  —  I  druther  most 
anything  than  have  anything  happen  to  Trixy." 

Here  Surbridge,  inwardly  delighted,  felt 
bound  to  interpose. 

"You  may  go  on,  my  lad,"  said  the  judge 
indulgently.  "  It  may  be  of  help  in  getting 
at  the  facts,"  he  added,  leveling  a  straight 
glance  at  the  respectful  protest  in  the  face 
of  the  colWe  counsel.  "  Let  us  hear  what 
the  boy  has  to  say." 

"  She  played  so  pretty,  too,"  proceeded 
Dan  with  quavering  voice.  "  Did  n't  ye  never 
see   her   play,   Judge?     It   warn't   only  ten 


240  TRIXY 

cents  a  head.  She  ain't  like  most  dogs,  Trixy 
ain't.  She's  a  little  girl  in  dog's  close,  Trixy 
is.  An'  then  ye  see  she 's  so  small,  Judge.  It 
warn't  as  if  she  was  a  bull-dog,  or  something 
big.  Trixy  could  n't  help  herself  —  she  was  a 
little  dog.  It  warn't  right  of  them  fellars. 
They  was  grown-up  men.  They  stole  my  little 
dog.  I  seen  her.  I  seen  her  in  that  college. 
They  was  a  goin'  to  cut  her  up  alive.  I  hearn 
a  fellar  say  so.  They  was  goin'  —  to  —  cut  — 
Trixy  —  up  —  alive.  I  tell  ye,  Judge,  I  seen 
her  in  the  machine.  She  had  a  bit  acrosst  her 
mouth — so  —  she  was  crying  somethin'  awful. 
It  was  a  turrible  thing  for  them  fellars  to  treat 
Trixy  so  —  now  warn't  it  ?  You  would  n't  ha' 
treated  her  that  way  yourself,  Judge,  would 
you?" 

Dan  sat  down  trembling.  He  was  very  white, 
and  went  a  trifle  faint.  He  felt  that  he  had 
disobeyed  Mr.  Surbridge  :  he  had  spoken  more 
than  he  was  spoken  to ;  and  he  experienced  a 
sick  anxiety.  From  the  rear  of  the  room  a  little 
squeal,  immediately  muffled  by  something  soft, 
greeted  the  subsidence  of  the  complainant. 

Very  ably  cross-examined,  Dan  stuck  to  his 
story  like  a  drowning  excursionist  to  a  sound 


TRIXY  241 

life  preserver.  He  neither  slipped  nor  sank. 
In  fact,  he  added  so  many  dangerous  touches 
to  the  evidence  that  the  eminent  college 
counsel  dropped  the  lad  as  soon  as  he  decently 
could. 

Before  the  emotion  aroused  by  Dan's 
pathetic  personality  had  wasted,  Surbridge 
put  in  his  witnesses  briskly. 

Thomas  Cady  related  the  circumstances  of 
the  finding  of  the  dog.  He  knew  the  dog  well ; 
he  was  "  perpared  "  to  swear  that  it  was  the 
dog ;  he  saw  her  taken  up  to  the  medical  school ; 
he  did  not  get  near  enough  to  release  the  clog. 

Sarah  Jenkinson,  plainly  a  consumptive, 
'  coughing  heavily,  offered  similar  testimony. 

Mary  Cady  reiterated  and  added  to  the 
same.  She  had  observed  the  blue  blanket  on 
the  dog  as  it  was  being  dragged  along.  She 
had  lingered  behind  her  party,  and  had  seen 
the  man.  When  the  man  "  see  her  watchin'," 
he  ran.  Mary  Cady  had  addressed  a  policeman 
on  the  subject  of  the  man  and  the  dog.  The 
policeman  had  "  cussed  "  at  Mary  Cady.  Mary 
Cady's  testimony  was  rendered  picturesque 
by  her  costume.  She  wore  a  blue  coat,  and  a 
green  hat  surmounted  by  a  blue  jay,  a  cat- 


242  TRIXY 

bird,  and  the  remains  of  a  cockatoo.  Her 
brown  muff  bung  from  her  neck  by  a  pink 
ribbon. 

Cady's  Molly  was  immediately  followed  by 
a  witness  whose  appearance  created  evident 
agitation  in  the  professional  part  of  the  au- 
dience. Robert  Souther,  practicing  physician 
and  surgeon,  being  sworn,  reluctantly  admitted 
that  he  was  present  in  the  laboratory  of  Dr. 
C.  C.  Bernard  at  the  time  when  the  dog  was 
withdrawn  from  the  experiment  in  question 
by  the  interference  of  the  attorney  for  the 
prosecution.  Dr.  Souther  was  a  middle-aged 
man  with  grayish  hair  and  beard.  He  bore  him- 
self with  an  air  of  distressed  protest  through- 
out the  melancholy  occasion  to  which  he  had 
been  subpoenaed  :  but,  being  obviously  a  man 
who  "  honored  his  word  as  if  it  were  his 
God,"  however  unwillingly,  he  told  the  truth. 
Shrewdly  cross-examined,  he  did  not  retract 
or  confuse  it.  The  dog  was  prepared  for  an 
experiment  which  he  was  invited  to  witness. 
He  had  inquired  of  Dr.  Bernard  where  he  had 
picked  that  pretty  creature  up.  Dr.  Bernard 
had  replied  that  it  came  in  the  usual  way. 
The  dog  was  fastened  to  the  dog-board,  and 


TRIXY  243 

the  experiment  was  about  to  begin,  when  the 
interruption  occurred.  Closely  pressed  by  the 
attorney  for  the  prosecution,  Dr.  Souther 
admitted  that  he  had  regretted  the  sacrifice  of 
the  dog ;  but,  being  a  guest  of  the  occasion,  he 
had  not  felt  at  liberty  to  say  so ;  equally  did 
he  regret  being  obliged  to  testify  against  a 
colleague  in  this  case.  Yes  ;  he  was  quite  sure 
that  he  should  recognize  the  dog  if  he  saw 
it.  It  was  in  no  sense  an  ordinary  dog.  He 
could  not  deny  that  he  was  gratified  that  the 
dog  had  escaped  the  experiment. 

After  the  court  had  returned  from  luncheon 
the  defense  unmasked  its  batteries.  These 
were  of  a  resounding  variety.  The  college 
took  the  position,  hardly  material  to  the  issue, 
but  intended  to  overawe,  that  this  slight 
matter  scarcely  needed  attention.  That  the 
institution  could  err,  was  plainly  a  social 
heresy.  Its  honor  was  not  to  be  questioned, 
its  scientific  dogma  was  not  to  be  barked  at 
by  the  courts,  and  its  methods  were  above 
criticism.  To  brinor  Galen  Medical  School 
before  the  bar  of  the  state  was  a  species  of 
lese-?najeste. 

One  of  the  defendants,  taking  advantage 


244  TEIXY 

of  his  privilege,  was  silent.  The  janitor  was 
not  going  to  run  the  risk  of  any  possible 
incrimination  of  his  valuable  personality.  He 
had  been  in  office  a  dozen  years,  and  had 
never  been  in  an  unpleasant  position  before. 
He  held  himself  to  be  as  unimpeachable  and 
almost  as  important  as  the  dean.  In  fact,  was 
he  not  more  necessary  ?  At  least  the  "  dog 
banditti "  thought  so. 

Witnesses  were  many  and  fluent.  Doctors, 
laboratory  assistants,  medical  students  flocked 
eagerly  to  the  defense  of  their  school.  The 
college  could  easily  have  presented  ten  wit- 
nesses to  Surbridge's  one.  The  expression  of 
the  distinguished  attorney  was  placid  and 
confident.  He  put  forward  the  chief  de- 
fendant without  uneasiness.  Dr.  Bernard's 
arrogant  brutality,  which  was  not  always 
popular  hi  professional  or  private  life,  made 
him  an  excellent  witness  in  his  own  behalf. 
He  had  for  so  long  a  time  regarded  laymen 
with  contempt  that  he  had  no  fears  about  the 
possible  outcome.  Indeed,  his  mind  was 
cloudy  as  to  the  value  of  the  legal  profession  ; 
its  skill  he  did  not  respect;  its  force  he  did 
not    fear.    Set  against  a   scientific  creed,  set 


TRIXY  245 

against  a  scientific  fact,  what  were  the  claims 
of  any  other  profession  ?  The  church  he  de- 
spised, the  state  he  defied  with  a  narrow  com- 
placency than  which  none  could  be  more 
hopeless. 

Charles  Claudius  Bernard  took  the  stand 
with  insolent  ease.  His  enormous  hands 
played  with  the  rail  before  him  as  if  he  had 
been  stripping  it  of  its  muscles.  His  pro- 
minent ears  seemed  to  a  girl  whose  wincing 
eyes  followed  him  behind  her  veil,  to  tarn 
forwards  a  little  like  those  of  a  listening 
animal.  He  told  his  story  in  a  loud  voice 
that  snapped  now  and  then  into  the  irrita- 
bility of  a  red-haired  man.  He  assumed  a 
position  which  he  conjectured  to  be  unassail- 
able. He  maintained  (and  the  judge  allowed 
him  the  same  latitude  that  had  been  allowed 
to  Dan )  that  it  was  not  an  instance,  but 
a  principle  which  was  arraigned ;  and  the 
principle  he  defended  with  a  certain  brutal 
belief  in  it  that  was  not  without  force.  He 
applauded  the  practice  that  he  represented, 
and  the  institution  which  chartered  it,  and 
himself.  He  challenged  examination  of  his 
methods,  inspection    of   his  laboratories.    To 


246  TRIXY 

the  animals  upon  which  he  experimented,  he 
referred  with  a  cold  indifference  not  skill- 
fully concealed  behind  a  perfunctory  show  of 
sympathy.  He  swore  that  he  did  not  know 
the  dog  was  stolen.  He  swore  that  he  was 
about  to  anaesthetize  the  dog.  He  swore  that 
none  of  his  subjects  suffered.  He  swore  that 
beyond  a  passing  discomfort  animals  did  not 
suffer. 

Philip  Surbridge,  up  to  this  point,  had 
handled  the  college  witnesses  with  a  courtesy 
that  was  almost  cordial,  cutting  swathes  in 
the  defense  with  a  nonchalant  touch.  He  had 
begun  pleasantly  and  lightly  as  if  he  were 
trundling  a  lawn-mower.  Now  the  stone- 
crusher  bewail  to  move.  In  five  minutes  Dr. 
Charles  Claudius  Bernard  was  uncomfortable. 
In  ten,  his  cruel,  deeply  reddened  face  had 
taken  on  purplish  shadows  about  the  mouth 
and  eyes.  In  fifteen,  he  had  admitted  half  a 
dozen  things  which  he  had  begun  by  denying, 
and  in  twenty,  if  a  stone-crusher  had  been 
vivisectible  material  he  could  have  flayed 
the  brain  and  heart  of  the  counsel  for  the 
prosecution. 

The  judge,  who  had  been  listening  to  the 


TRIXY  247 

cross-examination  with  an  absorbed  attention 
not  expected  of  a  police-court  magistrate,  now 
interrupted  the  natural  order  of  the  proceed- 
ings. He  expressed  a  wish  to  have  the 
plaintiff  put  upon  the  stand.  Was  it  a  slip 
of  the  tongue  ?  or  was  his  Honor  pleased  to 
be  facetious?  Surbridge  paused  in  evident 
perplexity,  and  made  a  motion  towards  Dan. 

"  I  think  I  fail  to  understand  your  Honor's 
wish?" 

"  Produce  the  real  complainant,"  said  the 
judge  peremptorily.    "  I  want  to  see  the  dog." 

"  Go,  Dan,"  said  Philip  Surbridge  in  a  low 
voice  —  "or  —  no  —  stay  where  you  are.  I  '11 
do  it." 

He  went  over  himself  and  took  the  dog  from 
Miss  Lauriat  so  quietly  that  only  a  few  persons 
sitting  nearest  the  young  lady  knew  precisely 
what  had  occurred.  For  the  instant  Miriam 
lifted  the  dark  veil  that  was  tied  about  her 
hat,  and  her  eyes  went  to  Philip's  straight. 
They  had  a  beautiful  look,  half  of  wonder, 
half  of  pride,  and  all  of  trust.  They  said  : 
"  You  are  making  a  grand  case  of  it.  And 
yet  you  are  sparing  me." 

Trixy    obeyed    his  Honor's  summons  very 


248  TRIXY 

prettily.  She  was  of  the  race  and  of  the  sex 
that  offer  the  trick  dogs,  and  was  prepared 
to  regard  the  occasion  as  a  professional  oppor- 
tunity. Yet  she  paid  no  attention  at  first  to 
anything  but  her  master ;  to  whom  she  flew 
—  more  like  a  bird  than  a  dog  —  with  little 
squeals  of  delight  and  dainty  laps  of  her  rose- 
pink  tongue,  cuddling  and  protesting  passion- 
ately against  the  separation  of  the  day ;  she 
laid  her  cheek  rapturously  to  the  radiance  of 
Dan's  face,  and,  turning  her  head  and  neck 
gracefully,  she  brought  these  close  beneath 
his  chin,  and  from  this  shelter  serenely  sur- 
veyed the  court. 

It  then  occurred  to  her  that  she  was  neg- 
lecting one  of  the  dearest  of  friends,  and  she 
sprang  from  Dan's  arms  to  Surbridge's  at  a 
bound.  Philip  gently  put  her  down  upon  the 
table,  where  the  opposing  counsel,  whether  of 
accident  or  of  intent,  stroked  Trixy.  The 
court  smiled  and  said  : 

"  A  point  has  been  raised  about  the  un- 
usual character  or  value  of  the  dog.  I  should 
like  to  see  one  or  two  of  the  little  creature's 
accomplishments." 

Dan   stepped  forward   proudly,  and,  being 


TRIXY  249 

something  muddled  by  excitement,  hastily 
began  : 

"  Trixy,  where  is  the  lady  you  love  the  best?" 

"  No,  no  !  "  whispered  Surbridge.  "  Not 
that !  Not  now !  Trixy  should  shake  hands 
with  the  judge." 

So  Trixy,  being  lifted  up,  shook  hands  with 
his  Honor  —  very  charmingly  indeed.  Then 
she  volunteered  to  kiss  Mr.  Surbridge,  but, 
being  deftly  dissuaded,  boxed  the  ears  of  the 
opposing  counsel  instead.  Then  she  danced  a 
two-step  on  the  table,  and  bowed  with  dig- 
nity to  the  audience.  After  that,  she  leaped 
the  bounds  of  all  legal  precedent,  and,  lightly 
springing  to  his  Honor's  lap,  put  her  paws  on 
the  bench,  her  head  on  her  paws,  and  said 
her  prayers. 

The  audience  was  now  laughing  heartily, 
and  the  judge,  finding  that  Trixy,  considered 
in  the  form  of  evidence,  was  more  than  he 
had  counted  on,  handed  her  back  to  her 
counsel,  and  returned  severely  to  his  official 
duties.  Somewhat  testily  he  demanded  that 
the  defendant  be  recalled,  and  the  unexpected 
question  was  shot  at  Bernard : 

"  Do  you  recognize  this  dog  ?  " 


250  TRIXY 

So  Dr.  C.  C.  Bernard  put  on  his  distance 
glasses,  carefully  examined  the  little  creature, 
and  slowly  said  : 

"  I  see  so  many  subjects  !  There  are  so 
many  experiments  !  I  could  hardly  be  ex- 
pected to  identify  any  one  of  them  outside 
the  laboratory." 

"  Answer  Yes  or  No  ! "  thundered  Sur- 
bridge.    "Do  you  recognize  this  dog?" 

Then  Charles  Claudius  Bernard  answered : 

"  I  do  not  recognize  the  dog." 

Now  as  the  strident  accents  of  this  reply 
grated  upon  the  silent  court-room,  a  remark- 
able change  fell  upon  the  "  real  complainant." 
Trixy,  who  had  run  to  the  end  of  her  leash 
upon  the  table,  pleasantly  regarding  the  au- 
dience which  she  plainly  supposed  to  have 
assembled  in  her  honor,  turned  with  a  motion 
of  unmistakable  fear,  and  looked  up  into  Dr. 
Bernard's  dark,  disturbed  face.  Over  that  of 
the  dog  crept  such  an  expression  of  horror 
that  his  Honor  instinctively  uttered  a  click- 
ing noise,  made  by  hitting  the  tongue  against 
the  roof  of  the  mouth.  Several  persons  sit- 
ting near  enough  to  see  the  dog's  eyes  gave 
out  low  exclamations.    Whether  Dr.  Bernard 


TKIXY  251 

recognized  the  subject  or  not,  the  subject  had 
recognized  Dr.  Bernard.  Cringing  with  fright, 
Trixy  fled  to  her  master  and  buried  herself  in 
his  arms  and  in  his  neck.  This  shelter  not  suf- 
ficing, she  burrowed  beneath  his  coat  and  hid 
herself  from  sight.  Dan  could  hear  the  terri- 
lied  beating  of  her  little  heart,  and  the  arm 
with  which  he  clasped  her  stirred  with  the 
violent  trembling  of  the  dog's  delicate  body. 
This  unusual  court  episode  created  an  obvious 
impression,  and  it  began  to  be  suspected  that 
Trixy  was  likely  to  win  her  own  case. 

The  stone-crusher  ground  on,  more  briskly 
now,  with  swifter  revolutions. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  this  before?"  cried  Sur- 
bridge,  sharply  wheeling  upon  a  scowling  wit- 
ness known  to  the  students  as  "janitor's  boy." 
The  attorney  held  out  in  both  hands  a  dog's 
blue  blanket,  soiled  and  spoiled  and  torn,  on 
which  the  embroidered  letters  I  X  Y  were  still 
plainly  to  be  seen. 

The  witness,  stammering  and  trembling, 
said  he  had  seen  the  blanket  before,  at  the 
college  —  on  a  dog  —  on  this  dog,  yes,  sir. 
He  had  put  it  in  the  ash  barrel.  Yes,  sir,  it 
was  the  janitor  told  him  to. 


252  TKIXY 

"  You  were  familiar  with  the  appearance  of 
this  blanket,  of  course  ?  You  must  have  been 
aware  of  the  existence  of  the  embroidered  let- 
ters I  X  Y  upon  it?" 

The  witness  granted  that  he  was  familiar 
with  the  appearance  of  the  blanket,  and  that 
he  had  noticed  the  embroidered  letters  I  X  Y. 

"  And  then  this"  suggested  Surbridge  care- 
lessly. "  You  must  have  observed  this  writing 
on  the  inside  of  the  blanket  ?  " 

He  turned  the  little  blanket  wrong  side 
out,  and,  held  up  in  full  view  of  the  court, 
it  showed  the  legend  printed  in  indelible  ink 
upon  a  piece  of  linen  that  was  sewed  under- 
neath Trixy's  coat: 

This  belongs  to  Trixy  Badger.  She  is  a  little  white 
dog.  She  belongs  to  Daniel  E.  Badger,  123  Blind  Alley. 
If  lost,  please  return  her. 

Under  a  terrible  cross-examination  the  wit- 
ness, sweating  agony  and  crying  mercy  from 
every  pore  of  body  and  soul,  admitted  that 
he  had  seen  the  label  —  thought  he  had  men- 
tioned the  label  to  the  janitor  —  thought  that 
Dr.  Bernard  knew  about  the  coat,  but  darse  n't 
tell  why  he  thought  so. 

The  janitor's  boy  panted  and  shook  so  that 


TRIXY  253 

Surbridge,  in  scornful  mercy,  released  him  be- 
fore he  meant  to. 

"  The  case  is  won,"  said  the  elderly  law- 
yer who  had  known  Surbridge's  father  in  his 
prime.    "But  they  will  appeal." 

The  closing  arguments  were  tense  and  short ; 
that  of  the  defense  being  remarkably  able, 
and  as  impressive  as  it  could  well  be  made  in 
teeth  of  developments  so  dramatic  and  so  un- 
expected. 

Philip  Surbridge  occupied  less  than  half  an 
hour.  He  reviewed  the  evidence  briefly,  almost 
brusquely,  as  if  it  were  idle  to  waste  the  time 
of  the  court  by  dwelling  upon  such  a  fortifi- 
cation of  facts.  His  manner  was  cheerful  and 
assured,  and  seemed  to  intrust  the  case  to  the 
legal  sense  of  the  judge,  as  a  matter  of  course. 
It  was  without  a  trace  of  "  lawyer's  worry  " 
that  he  rose  into  the  impassioned  and  original 
plea  which  was  long  and  well  remembered  by 
every  attorney  in  the  room.  Some  applauded 
it,  some  criticised  it,  but  no  man  forgot  it. 

Surbridge,  having  handled  the  technicali- 
ties of  his  case  with  significant  thoroughness 
and  with  real  power,  now  gave  himself  over 
generously  to  its  moral  and  even  its  emotional 


254  TRIXY 

aspects.  The  manner  in  which  he  was  pleased 
to  do  this,  though  not  without  a  counterpart 
in  the  records  of  the  Bar,1  was  unmatched  in 
the  courts  of  our  Eastern  coast.  Without  a 
word  of  apology  for  the  innovation,  the  lame 
lad's  counsel  launched  upon  a  eulogy  of  the 
nature  of  the  dog. 

"A  man  does  not  have  to  live  very  long," 
he  said,  "  to  discover  that  in  this  world  friends 
are  hard  to  gain,  and  harder  to  keep.  At 
most  they  are  very  few.  Not  many  of  them 
are  true.  All  of  them  are  uncertain.  None  of 
them  can  answer  the  demands  of  our  clamor- 
ing hearts.  Who  comes  so  near  to  meeting 
the  conditions  of  a  real  friendship  as  your 
dog?  His  devotion  surpasses  the  devotion  of 
most  women.  His  affection  outvies  the  affec- 
tion of  any  man.  He  gives  everything  ;  he 
asks  nothing.  He  offers  all ;  he  receives  little. 
He  comforts  your  loneliness ;  he  assuages  your 
distress;  he  sacrifices  his  liberty  to  watch  by 
you  in  sickness  ;  when  every  one  else  who 
used  to  love  you  has  neglected  your  grave,  he 
will  break  his  heart  upon  it.  Who  fails  you 
in  faith  ?    Your  dog  is   loyal.    Who   deserts 

1  Address  of  Senator  Vest. 


TRIXY  255 

you  ?  Your  dog  never.  Who  gashes  you  with 
roughness,  or  bruises  you  with  unkindness  ? 
Your  dog  offers  you  the  tenderness  that  time 
and  use  cannot  destroy.  You  have  from  him 
the  expression  of  the  uttermost,  the  unselfish 
love.  This  little  citizen  of  the  slums,  this 
wronged  and  suffering  lad  possessed  a  trea- 
sure which  any  one  of  us  might  envy  —  the 
true  friendship  of  an  exquisite  canine  nature. 
Without  excuse  in  the  nature  of  the  deed, 
without  apology  in  the  laws  of  the  land,  sci- 
ence put  out  her  red  hand  and  tore  from 
this  afflicted  boy  his  means  of  livelihood,  the 
joy  of  his  hard  life,  the  comrade  of  his  deso- 
lation. His  tragic  experience  is  one  of  hun- 
dreds that  never  reach  the  knowledge  of  the 
public,  or  the  protection  of  the  courts.  The 
merciful  denouement  of  this  dark  tale  does 
not  often  await  the  bereaved  household  that 
has  mysteriously  lost  its  dumb  and  cherished 
friend.  Yours  may  be  such  a  household. 
Mine  might  be  such  bereavement.  We,  too, 
may  be  elected  to  share  this  fate  into  which 
the  physiology  of  our  day  drags  the  animal 
and  the  human  too.  Y^ou  have  heard  the  de- 
fendant in  this  case  assert  that  he  does  not 


256  TRIXY 

know,  that  his  institution  does  not  know, 
where  the  victims  of  his  laboratory  come  from. 
Your  Honor !  I  claim  that  his  institution 
ought  to  know.  I  say  that  her  faculty  and 
her  employees  ought  to  know.  I  urge  that 
the  defendants  should  be  made  to  know  — 
by  the  decision  of  this  court  —  where  this 
material  came  from,  and  that  they  should 
never  be  permitted  from  this  hour  to  forget. 
I  appeal  for  this  wronged  boy  against  the 
slaughter-houses  of  science,  to  the  law  which 
is  framed  to  protect  the  weak,  to  punish 
outrage,  and  to  respect  the  sacredness  of 
property." 

It  seemed  that  Surbridge  had  intended  to 
say  something  more,  but,  checked  by  his  own 
agitation,  and  moved  by  the  emotion  in  the 
court-room,  he  ceased  abruptly.  His  pale  face 
turned  impulsively  towards  the  girl  in  the  far 
end  of  the  house.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he 
could  see  her  wet  eyes  through  her  veil. 

Quickly  and  quietly  she  rose  and  went  out. 
It  was  as  though  she  could  not  trust  herself 
to  witness  the  end  of  the  scene. 

This  came  now,  in  a  whirlwind. 

His  Honor  summed  up  briefly  and  sternly. 


TRIXY  257 

He  referred  to  the  importance  of  this  case  to 
the  community  —  to  its  unusual  character  — 
to  the  standing-  of  the  defendants  —  to  their 
evident  assumption  that  their  influential  posi- 
tion would  afford  them  immunity.  The  court, 
however,  proposed  to  dispense  justice  impar- 
tially, regardless  of  the  consequences.  Science 
was  not  of  such  paramount  importance  to  so- 
ciety as  the  observance  of  the  laws.  It  was 
perfectly  clear  to  the  judge  upon  the  evidence 
that  both  the  defendants  knew  that  the  dog 
was  stolen,  and  there  was  nothing  for  him  to 
do  in  the  conscientious  and  fearless  discharge 
of  his  duty  but  to  find  them  both  guilty  of 
the  offense  charged. 

His  Honor  imposed  the  heaviest  fine  that 
the  law  allowed  ;  treated  the  appeal  with  sar- 
castic contempt ;  and,  when  he  found  a  chance, 
said  to  the  young  attorney  :  "  You  remind  me 
of  your  father." 

The  students  and  the  medical  men  went 
out  in  disturbed  and  scowling  groups.  But 
some  of  the  lawyers  lingered  to  give  a  hearty 
hand  to  Philip  Surbridge.  Ladies  who  had 
dropped  their  fans  to  put  dainty  handker- 
chiefs to  their  eyes  melted  away  silently  and 


258  TRIXY 

thoughtfully.  And  the  plain  and  powerful 
people  rose  to  their  strong  feet,  and  —  not 
knowing  and  not  caring  that  it  was  against 
court  rules  to  do  so  —  cheered  and  roared 
like  the  lion  that  they  are  for  Dan  and 
Trixy. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

The  vivisector  turned  painfully  upon  his  bed ; 
he  had  lain  there  now  six  weeks.  He  had 
always  been  a  well  man,  and  by  the  mystery 
of  physical  suffering  and  disability  he  was  as 
much  astonished  as  he  was  infuriated.  For 
the  last  twelve  months  he  had  worked  with  a 
concentration  never  exceeded  in  his  studious 
life.  His  laboratory  had  not  listened  in  vain 
for  his  expected  feet,  and  the  lights  in  its  win- 
dows had  often  burned  late  into  the  night. 
During  the  year  his  colleagues  had  noted 
that  he  had  shifted  his  research  away  from 
the  surgical  direction.  Whether  he  had  been 
moved  to  do  this  through  one  of  those  delu- 
sions by  which  we  excuse  to  ourselves  our 
forsworn  resolves,  he  himself  could  not  have 
told.  At  all  events,  the  work  upon  which  he 
was  now  engaged  —  that  of  serum  inoculation 
—  was  alleged  to  be  the  more  merciful  form 
of  experimentation. 

He  had  not  spoken  to  Miriam  Lauriat  since 


260  TRIXY 

that  morning  when  he  was  exiled  from  the 
paradise  of  her  presence.  He  had  written  to 
her  several  times,  but  had  received  no  replies. 
Beyond  a  passing  glimpse  of  her  in  the  street, 
or  in  some  place  of  entertainment,  he  had  not 
seen  her  face.  These  instantaneous  views, 
caught  on  the  sensitized  plate  of  his  conscious- 
ness, had  caused  him  so  much  misery  that  he 
had  finally  withdrawn  himself  from  all  but  the 
necessary  attrition  of  life.  The  vow  he  had 
made  to  her  still  reverberated  through  his  be- 
ing,  but  he  excused  himself  from  its  fulfillment 
with  the  easy  sophistry  of  his  avocation.  It 
was  a  conditional  promise.  She  had  not  met 
the  condition ;  why  should  he  sacrifice  himself  ? 
At  midsummer,  about  two  months  ago,  he 
came  home  from  his  laboratory  one  day  with 
a  slight  abrasion  upon  his  finger.  He  thought 
nothing  of  it  at  the  time.  The  guinea  pig 
that  he  had  inoculated  sickened  and  died,  as 
it  was  intended  that  it  should.  On  the  day 
when  the  patient  creature  drew  its  last  miser- 
able breath,  Dr.  Steele  was  appalled  to  dis- 
cover in  himself  the  too  familiar  symptoms 
of  the  malady  that  he  had  imposed  upon  his 
timid  and  unimportant  victim. 


TRIXY  261 

His  knowledge  of  the  nature  and  conse- 
quences of  the  disorder  constituted  its  acutest 
feature.  He  longed  for  the  happy  simplicity 
of  the  layman ;  he  prayed  that  certain  cells  of 
his  brain  might  be  dispossessed  of  their  techni- 
cal training ;  he  would  have  bartered  twenty 
years  of  education  for  the  dull  foresight  of  a 
man  who  would  know  only  what  his  physician 
chose  to  tell ;  he  would  have  sold  his  brilliant 
reputation  for  a  merciful  nescience  of  his  ad- 
vancing fate. 

Steele,  as  we  say,  had  never  been  really  ill 
before ;  we  might  add  that  he  had  never  truly 
been  alone  before.  The  inevitable  solitude  of 
sickness — at  its  best  neither  tolerated  nor  un- 
derstood by  the  well  and  the  gregarious  —  was 
in  his  instance  rather  pitiably  uncompanioned. 
His  mother  was  dead ;  his  brother  was  in  Cali- 
fornia ;  and  his  sister's  infrequent  visits  came 
like  ice  in  April.  The  attendance  of  the  staff  of 
Galen  College  did  not  mitigate  his  desolation, 
any  more  than  it  cured  his  disorder.  He  was 
alone  with  his  nurse,  his  servants,  and  his  old 
dog.  Tibbs  and  Barry  were  about  the  same 
age,  so  to  speak,  and  both  had  well  outgrown 
the  impatience  that  youth  feels  with  the  sick. 


262  TRIXY 

Olin's  sister  came  in  on  the  day  of  which 
we  tell,  to  make  a  little  duty  call.  It  was  with 
evident  reluctance  that  she  crossed  the  sick- 
room. She  sat  down  on  a  chair  at  some 
distance  from  the  bed,  and  prattled  her  per- 
functory sympathy. 

Did  he  en j  oy  the  flowers  ?  Should  she  send 
another  tumbler  of  that  jelly  ?  Could  he  read 
some  wholesome,  cheerful  novels?  Her  hus- 
band sent  his  kindest  regards.  Any  more  let- 
ters from  Dick  ?  How  well  he  was  doing  at 
the  head  of  that  institution  !  All  her  friends 
were  proud  of  him.  He  was  a  credit  to  the 
family,  he  enjoyed  the  climate,  and  said  he 
never  was  so  well  in  his  life. 

"  I  must  say,  Olin  —  of  course,  you  know, 
I  am  very  sorry  for  you,  but  I  should  have 
thought  you  had  experience  enough  not  to  get 
yourself  into  such  a  scrape  as  this.  Still,  I  sup- 
pose, it 's  very  interesting  studying  your  own 
symptoms,  especially  when  they  are  so  rare. 
You  '11  be  writing  a  pamphlet  about  it  some 
day." 

"  Oh,  do  be  still,  Jess!  "  groaned  Olin.  He 
buried  his  face  in  his  pillow  savagely. 

"  Well,  I  'm  sure  !  "  exclaimed  Jess.    "  It 's 


TRIXY  263 

no  use  trying  to  sympathize  with  you."  She 
pouted,  and  he  heard  her  skirts  swishing  out 
of  the  room. 

Agitated  by  the  disturbance  of  his  sister's 
call,  Olin  flung  himself  into  a  rise  of  tempera- 
ture, and  feverishly  rang  for  water  and  an 
open  window.  The  nurse  was  off  duty,  being 
out  for  her  two  hours'  relief,  and  Tibbs  did 
not  hear  the  bell.  Steele  called  and  called 
again,  but  no  one  answered  him.  The  sudden 
tears  of  weakness  scalded  his  eyes.  He  thought 
of  his  mother  with  a  boyish,  almost  a  senti- 
mental longing. 

"Nobody  cares,"  he  muttered.  "I  am  a 
sick  —  I  am  a  desolate  man." 

His  reflections  ran  a  bitter  race.  He  who 
had  achieved  almost  supremely ;  he  whose 
value  science  had  rated  so  highly ;  he  whose 
name  was  pushed  to  the  front  in  medical 
journals ;  he  whose  college  honored  him 
above  the  alumni  of  his  time ;  he  for  whose 
revolutionizing  discoveries  humanity  was  said 
to  be  waiting  —  he  lay  there  parched  and 
neglected.  He  had  sown  professional  fame ; 
he  had  reaped  a  poisoned  isolation.  He 
flung  himself  over  in  a  helpless  fury,  and  his 


264  TRIXY 

clenched  hand  dropped  at  the  side  of  the  bed. 
It  hit  something  cold,  and  he  drew  back  with 
a  shiver. 

Slowly  and  laboriously  an  old  St.  Bernard 
dog  raised  himself  to  his  feet,  and  followed 
his  master's  witless  hand.  The  huge,  stiff  crea- 
ture put  his  head  upon  the  bed;  with  dim, 
faithful  eyes  begging  the  caress  for  which  he 
had  waited  longer  than,  it  seemed,  masters 
know  or  care.  Feeling  rather  than  perceiving 
—  for  Barry  was  now  nearly  blind  —  that 
the  sick  man's  attention  was  turned  to  him  at 
last,  the  dog  struggled  up  and  got  one  paw, 
then  the  other,  to  the  pillow,  and  so  across 
the  dear  neck  that  he  pathetically  sought  to 
clasp. 

"  Why,  Barry  !  "  said  Steele  faintly.  «  Why, 
Barry  !  —  What  do  you  want,  old  fellow  ?  " 

Barry  passionately  tried  to  answer,  but  he 
had  no  vocabulary  except  that  of  love ;  he  had 
only  love  to  render ;  and  only  love  to  ask. 
Barry  concerned  himself  with  no  small  mat- 
ters ;  he  dealt  with  nothing  less  than  the 
greatest  thing  in  the  world.  He  stood  quite 
still  and  straight  —  it  must  have  hurt  him,  but 
he  said  nothing  about  that  —  and,  getting  his 


TRIXY  265 

head  over  upon  the  sick  man's  shoulder,  laid 
it  there  with  a  happy  sigh.  As  long  as  the 
rheumatic  dog  could  stand,  the  two  remained 
so,  cheek  to  cheek. 

"  You  stay  by  me,  Barry  —  don't  you  ?  " 
Stimulated,  perhaps,  by  this  momentary  con- 
tact with  life  and  love  —  it  did  not  matter  just 
then  that  it  was  offered  by  one  of  the  subject 
races  —  Steele's  thoughts  took  on  a  character 
to  which  for  years  his  mind  had  given  no  hos- 
pitality. For,  now,  there  marched  before  his 
closed  and  aching  eyes  the  solemn  movement 
of  a  long  processional.  Curiously,  it  seemed 
to  go  in  pairs,  like  the  animals  that  went  into 
the  ark  in  the  old  Bible  myth  that  he  used  to 
believe  when  he  was  a  child.  This  mute  and 
sentient  panorama  was  all  aware  of  him.  As 
it  passed,  each  martyred  creature  turned  its 
eyes  and  looked  at  him,  and  looked  away ;  so 
he  had  seen  on  the  stage  the  murdered  man 
look  upon  Irving  in  "  The  Bells."  In  this 
glance  was  neither  threat  nor  accusation,  only 
an  instant's  width  of  awful  recognition.  It 
was  a  gentle  company  that  filed  by  him : 
the  domestic  animals  that  comfort  our  homes, 
soft  feline  pets,  purring  as  they  came,  and 


266  TRIXY 

noble-headed  dogs  who  had  kissed  the  hand 
that  carved  them ;  there  followed  small  de- 
spised things,  that  sing  in  our  swamps  on  sum- 
mer nights,  and  lull  us  to  sleep  with  their 
cheerful  serenade;  then  came  simple-minded, 
docile  creatures  with  long,  lifted  ears  —  little 
spirits,  born  to  be  playthings  for  children. 
There  were  winged  things,  too,  pigeons  and 
doves,  whose  brains  he  had  sliced.  These  all 
went  with  their  heads  on  one  side  or  the 
other.  The  circumstance  that  forbade  them 
to  hold  themselves  straight  did  not  seem  to 
be  as  interesting  now  as  it  was  when  he 
sacrificed  these  gentle  beings  to  a  physiologi- 
cal caprice. 

The  vivisector  returned  the  recognition  of 
these  solemn  ranks.  His  fevered  brain,  not 
altogether  able  to  distinguish  between  the 
phantasm  and  the  fact,  followed  these  sad 
shades  eagerly.  There  was  a  maledict  hyp- 
nosis in  their  mournful  gaze.  They  trooped 
in  companies,  mute,  gentle,  uncomplaining, 
unaccusing.  God !  If  they  had  arisen  and 
gnashed  at  him !  If  they  had  torn  him 
muscle  by  muscle ;  if  they  had  stripped  him 
nerve  from  nerve  as  he  had  lacerated  them  — 


TRIXY  267 

he  could  have  borne  it  better !  But  they 
flayed  him  with  gentle  endurance ;  they  tor- 
mented him  with  phantom  forgiveness ;  their 
bitterest  revenge  was  one  reiterated  question 
—  "  Why  ?  —  Why  ?  —  Why  ?  "  Then,  from 
gidfs  of  distance  the  voice  of  a  woman  invis- 
ible cried  out  upon  him  :  "  Was  it  worth  the 
cost  ?  —  Was  it  worth  the  cost  ?  " 

Unable  to  free  himself,  if  he  would,  from 
this  spectral  society,  Steele  watched  its  in- 
evitable progression.  It  was  as  if  he  were 
an  officer  reviewing  the  ghosts  of  a  scattered 
army  after  a  defeat.  Silent,  drooping,  by 
hundreds  they  passed  him  by ;  they  offered 
him  no  salute  ;  it  was  his  false  tactics  that 
had  lost  the  fight. 

Here  and  there  in  the  feeble  ranks  he 
identified  a  sacrifice  to  his  fame  —  that  dog 
in  Vienna  —  and  now,  last  of  all,  hers.  This 
one  did  not  raise  its  scarred  head,  but  dully 
followed  the  rest  because  it  had  to. 

A  throe  of  physical  anguish  brought  Steele 
to  himself,  and  dissipated  this  ghostly  army. 
It  now  recurred  to  the  physiologist  that  he 
was  bearing  in  his  own  body,  nerve  by  nerve, 
a  reduplication  of    the  sensations  which  he 


268  TRIXY 

had  inflicted  in  some  of  his  recent  experi- 
ments. His  educated  imagination  could  easily 
forecast  the  climax  to  the  tragedy.  He  had 
seen  it  enacted  —  how  many  times  ! 

"This  is  my  punishment,"  he  groaned. 
"This  is  my  punishment  for  the  torments 
I  have  allowed  the  animals  to  suffer." 

His  cry  rang  through  the  room,  and  hurried 
the  nurse  whose  feet  were  already  on  the  stairs. 

"  You  've  been  dreaming  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  No,"  he  panted,  "  it  was  no  dream.  I 
wish  it  were." 

"  I  '11  tell  Dr.  Bernard  downstairs  that  you 
can't  see  him.  You  're  not  fit.  I  can't  allow 
it.    It  won't  do." 

—  "  Oh,  but  here  I  am.  I  guess  he  '11  see 
me  all  right. " 

Bernard  pushed  into  the  sick-room  obsti- 
nately. His  patients  were  not  people,  and  he 
did  not  know  how  to  treat  the  human  sick. 
He  came  to  the  bedside,  and  with  the  arro- 
gance of  health  looked  down  upon  his  chief. 
He  put  a  few  searching  questions,  asked  the 
nurse  for  the  chart,  and  regarded  the  sufferer 
critically.  Steele  had  seen  the  same  expression 
of  satisfaction  on  that  coarse  face  before. 


TRIXY  269 

"  It 's  a  beautiful  case,  is  n't  it?  "  observed 
Bernard  brutally. 

Steele  lay  watching  his  visitor  through  half- 
closed  lashes.  To  himself  he  said  :  "  This  man 
would  sacrifice  me,  if  he  could.  He  would  ex- 
periment heartily.  He  has  become  like  that. 
Or  perhaps  he  always  was."  Aloud  he  said : 
"  You  remind  me  of  that  story  about  Passerot 
—  do  you  remember  ?  Probably  not.  Hand 
me  that  black  book  under  the  'Surgical  Re- 
cord '  on  the  other  table  —  will  you  ?  Thanks. 
Oblige  me  by  reading  that." 

And  Bernard  read  : 

"There  is  a  story  told  of  ...  a  French 
scholar  of  the  last  century.  Dying,  he  was 
brought,  unrecognized,  into  the  Charity  Hos- 
pital of  Paris.  The  attending  surgeon  looked 
down  upon  the  miserable  being,  and,  speaking 
to  his  associates  in  Latin,  —  the  language  used 
by  learned  men,  —  he  remarked :  ( Fiat  expe- 
rimentum  in  cor  pore  vilV  At  these  words 
the  eyes  of  the  dying  man  opened,  and  from 
one  they  had  taken  to  be  a  beggar  came  a 
scholar's  reply :  '  Cor]ms  non  vile  est,  domini 
doctissimi,  pro  quo  Christies  ipse  non  dedi- 
gnatus  est  morV  " 


270  TRIXY 

Bernard  closed  the  book  with  ostentatious 
indifference ;  his  muddy  cheek  did  not  clarify 
into  color;  but  he  flung  one  insolent  glance 
at  his  professor.  "  Oh,  by  the  way/'  he  said 
leisurely,  "can't  you  induce  the  alleged  owner 
of  that  spaniel  to  let  us  have  it  back  ?  Other- 
wise, all  that  work  is  thrown  away." 

The  stricken  man  struggled  to  raise  himself 
upon  his  elbow,  and  struggled  again,  when 
he  fell  back.  Panting  and  paling,  he  cursed 
his  subordinate  out  of  the  room. 

Then  Barry,  limping  after,  swore  hoarsely 
at  the  inquisitor ;  who,  as  he  closed  the  door, 
kicked  the  old  dog. 

The  instructor  left  the  house  in  a  bad 
humor,  and  went  his  way  sulkily.  He  had 
always  dully  felt  that  a  separateness  existed 
between  himself  and  Olin  Steele,  such  as 
people  not  scientifically  educated  might  call 
a  class  distinction  of  the  soul ;  but  this  was 
of  the  sort  which  a  man  does  not  admit  to 
himself  in  language. 

"  He  is  even  dying  differently,"  thought 
Bernard.  He  resented  this  last  infringement 
upon  his  estimate  of  himself.  Nothing  in  his 
nature  responded  to  the  evident  moral  agita- 


TRIXY  271 

tion  and  readjustment  with  which  Steele  was 
fronting  death. 

"  What  is  there  to  make  a  fuss  about,  any- 
how ?  "  he  asked  savagely. 

He  walked  for  a  while,  looking  grimly 
about.  It  miffht  almost  have  been  said  that 
he  was  looking  for  something  on  which  to 
wreak  his  discomfort.  He  paused  before  a 
hospital,  where  it  now  occurred  to  him  that 
a  curious  operation  (which,  as  the  event  proved, 
ended  in  death)  was  to  take  place  that  very  day 
upon  the  brain  of  an  underwitted  house-maid. 
He  went  in. 

As  he  watched  with  absorption  this  rare 
demonstration,  he  said  to  himself :  "  No  ex- 
periment is  absolutely  satisfactory  unless  it 
has  been  tried  on  a  human  being." 

The  episode  gave  him  a  keen  pleasure 
which  forced  the  unpleasant  thought  of  his 
professor  from  his  mind. 

The  nurse  hurried  in  remorsefully,  voluble 
as  the  best  of  nurses  may  be  at  the  unfortu- 
nate moment.  Steele  felt  as  if  he  could  hurl 
her  after  Bernard  by  an  objurgation,  and  had 
hard  work  not  to  tell  her  so.    But  she  had  a 


272  TRIXY 

letter  in  her  hand,  and  when  he  saw  the  super- 
scription the  patient  could  have  kneeled  in  his 
bed  and  worshiped  her. 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  'm  doing  wrong,"  she  par- 
leyed. "  You  have  been  under  some  severe 
excitement,  and  the  doctor  "  — 

But  the  patient,  damning  the  doctor,  tore 
the  envelope  from  the  woman's  hand,  ordered 
her  out  of  the  room,  and  fell  upon  the  letter 
like  some  starved  animal  on  living  food.  Steele, 
staring  and  shaking,  read  : 

I  have  never  answered  anything  you  have 
written  because  I  felt  that  it  would  not  be 
merciful  to  you,  nor  best,  perhaps,  for  me. 
But  in  these  poignant  days,  which  are  anni- 
versary of  those  that  I  am  not  yet  able  to  for- 
get, it  has  seemed  to  me  that,  perhaps,  I 
should  be  truer  to  myself  if  I  did  so,  and  that 
it  might  be  the  better  way  to  break,  once 
and  for  all,  the  silence  that  I  have  put  be- 
tween us;  it  has  grown  a  high  and  solid  wall, 
and  a  wall  it  must  remain.  You  will  not  for 
a  moment  mistake  me  about  that.  But  it  has 
come  to  me  lately  to  wish  to  tell  you  this : 
while  to  you  it  has  seemed  a  wall  of  stone  or 


TRIXY  273 

marble,  to  me  it  has  been  a  wall  of  glass.  It 
is  thick  glass ;  I  cannot  break  it ;  but  I  have 
always  felt  that  I  could  look  through  it,  if  I 
chose,  and  sometimes  I  have  chosen.  I  have 
observed  you ;  I  have  watched  your  life. 

I  do  not  mind  telling  you  that  it  has  added 
to  such  sadness  as  I  myself  cannot  escape,  to 
see  that  you  are  —  as  you  were ;  and  that  the 
words  which  you  said  to  me  that  day,  that 
last  day,  have  not  taken  form  in  deeds.  It 
has  disappointed  me. 

Yesterday  I  heard  that  you  are  ill;  how 
ill  I  do  not  know,  nor  from  what  cause ;  there 
seems  to  be  some  mystery  or  reticence  about 
it  on  which  I  have  made  no  effort  to  intrude. 
But  it  came  to  me  plainly  last  night  that  I 
should  like  to  tell  you  that  I  am  sorry  you 
are  sick.  I  should  not  like  to  be  as  you 
said.  I  do  not  mean  to  be  kind  to  a  dog  and 
cruel  to  his  tormentor,  not  even  that ;  and 
so  I  am  writing  as  I  am.  ...  If  you  had 
been  a  drunkard  I  might  have  tried  to  save 
you.  If  I  had  married  you,  and  you  had  done 
some  dreadful  thing — some  quick,  hot-headed 
thing  —  I  should  have  forgiven  you.  I  might 
have  stood  by  you  if  you  had  committed  some 


274  TRIXY 

impulsive  murder.  I  do  not  know,  but  I 
think  I  should.  But,  as  it  was,  I  should  al- 
ways have  thought  —  there  would  have  been 
times  when  — 

Cruelty  may  be  —  how  do  we  know  ?  —  the 
unpardonable  sin ;  it  is  a  sin  against  the 
Spirit  of  Mercy ;  it  is  such  a  sin  against  my 
spirit  that  I  had,  and  I  have,  no  choice.  I  do 
not  wish  to  add  to  your  suffering,  but  it 
may  not  really  do  so  if  I  tell  you  that  I  have 
not  seen  the  moment  when  I  have  regretted 
my  decision,  or  felt  that  any  other  was  or 
could  be  possible.  I  cannot  see  how  any  true 
woman  can  take  a  vivisector's  hand. 

But  something  else  is  possible.  I  do  not 
want  to  force  my  feeling  about  this  upon  you, 
but  I  should  like  to  respect  you  again,  even 
to  honor  you  again,  before  I  die. 

It  seems  to  me  that  there  may  be  something 
more  in  such  interruptions  of  human  fate  than 
we  suppose ;  perhaps  no  man  and  woman  ex- 
perience a  memorable  attraction  and  go  quite 
freed  of  it,  for  this  life.  "  I  stand  forever  in 
thy  shadow"  —  that  is  the  Portuguese  Sonnets, 
is  n't  it  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  we  have  gained 
something  worth  having  if  the  shadow  of  such 


TRIXY  275 

an  intercepted  feeling  shall  be  a  noble  one. 
I  cannot  help  wishing  —  in  a  word  —  that 
mine  may  be  to  you  a  noble  shadow. 

It  seems  to  me  the  worst  thing  about  the 
scientific  error  that  has  misled  you,  that  it 
should  delude  the  moral  nature  of  such  a  man 
as  I  thought  you  were  born  to  be.  I  have 
found  myself  praying  that  —  not  because  you 
cared  for  me,  but  because  you  honored  some 
of  the  things  I  care  for  —  you  should  become 
the  man  I  thought  you  were.  I  have  written 
this  because  I  cannot  help  it ;  and  I  shall  not 
write  again.  M.  L. 

Steele  read  and  reread  this  letter  with 
solemn,  shining  eyes.  When  he  heard  the 
footsteps  of  the  nurse  and  doctor  he  hid  it 
under  his  pillow,  and  kept  his  hand  upon  it. 
The  doctor's  face  assumed  a  shade  of  gravity. 
"  Too  quiet,"  he  thought ;  "  too  docile." 

Obedient,  amenable,  Steele  lay  perfectly 
still  until  the  nurse  in  the  adjoining  room 
was  asleep.  Then  his  own  mind  and  heart 
awoke. 

It  was  doubtful  if  he  slept  at  all.  All  night 
his  soul  arose  and  looked  upon  him.    In  its 


276  TRIXY 

naked  countenance  he  saw  unappeasable  re- 
gret. Its  eyes  were  like  hers ;  they  did  not 
scorn  him  now ;  they  pitied  him.  Like  hers, 
they  seemed  to  be  dismissing  him.  Curious 
old  words  came  to  him  brokenly  :  What  shall 
it  profit  if  a  man  gain  professional  glory 
(which  might  be  discredited  in  the  next 
quarter  century)  and  lose  his  own  soul  —  for 
how  long  ? 

His  great  essay  on  the  non-existence  of  love 
he  had  himself  disastrously  disproved.  Who 
could  say  which  of  his  conclusions,  arrived  at 
by  what  sacrifice  of  tormented  life,  might  not 
meet  a  similar  fate  ? 

His  profession  had  called  him  great,  and  he 
had  thought  he  was,  but,  in  the  last  analysis, 
for  what  would  he  be  longest  remembered  ? 
For  an  iron  thong  which  he  had  invented  to 
pierce  the  tongue  of  a  vivisected  dog,  and 
hold  it  in  place.  He  had  experienced  his  full 
share  of  the  arrogance  of  physiology.  He  had 
tolerated  the  practical  physician.  He  had 
patronized  the  healer.  Now,  he  thought  of 
them  with  an  avid  envy  —  men  who  had  ex- 
tinguished themselves  in  the  relief  of  human 
suffering ;    those   lovers  of  life,  those   coun- 


TRIXY  277 

selors  of  the  home,  those  assuagers  of  pain, 
those  idols  of  the  sick  !  These  were  the  men 
who  counted  not  their  lives  their  own,  who 
were  never  sure  of  their  sleep,  their  rest,  their 
holidays,  or  the  society  of  their  families  —  they 
who  were  the  servants  of  the  lowest  poor,  the 
slaves  of  the  most  disordered  whims — men 
who  grew  gray  before  their  time,  because  they 
carried  upon  their  hearts  the  suffering  of  the 
world ;  they  who  were  the  physical  and  often 
the  moral  saviors  of  sick  and  tempted  people 
—  men  of  whom  the  world  was  not  worthy. 
What  had  he  in  common  with  these  ?  Who  de- 
pended upon  him?  What  happiness  had  he 
conferred  ?  What  suffering  had  he  alleviated  ? 
Who  blessed  his  coming  feet  ?  Who  regretted 
his  forced  departure  ?  Who  remembered  him 
in  grateful  prayers  ?    Who  loved  him  f 

The  shrieks  of  his  laboratory  reechoed 
throiiffh  his  ears.  He  had  entered  it  to  tor- 
ture ;  he  had  left  in  it  inexorable  agony. 
Better  to  have  been  one  of  those  plain,  over- 
looked, over-worked  men  whose  epitaph  is 
written  in  the  hearts  of  his  patients.  Better 
to  have  been  the  obscurest  of  them  all  —  some 
country  doctor  riding   his  thirty  miles  over 


278  TRIXY 

impossible  roads,  carrying  his  snow-shovel  in 
the  sleigh  to  dig  the  drifts  out  from  under 
his  horse's  feet ;  better  to  be  smitten  by  sun, 
or  parched  by  dust,  or  drenched  in  storms,  or 
starved  for  sleep,  or  flinging  one's  life  into 
the  tentacles  of  contagion. 

If  he  had  been  such  as  this  she  would  have 
honored,  she  might  have  loved  him.  In  try- 
ing to  gain  himself  he  had  lost  her.  So  strange, 
so  subtle  is  the  spiritual  law ;  in  losing  her 
had  he  lost,  and  thus  regained,  himself? 

It  was  now  dim  dawn.  He  drew  her  letter 
out  from  under  the  pillow,  and  pressed  it 
feebly  to  his  lips. 

He  had  directed  the  nurse  to  leave  paper 
and  pencil  within  his  reach.  Those  he  took, 
and  with  shaking  fingers  traced  these  words : 

I  used  to  think  by  what  names  I  should 
call  you  when  I  had  the  right.  I  shall  never 
have  it  now,  but  because  I  am  so  sick,  will  you 
let  me  this  one  time  say,  Miriam,  I  bless  you 
for  your  letter?  It  is  like  yourself.  If  I  were 
strong  enough  I  should  say  more,  but  I  am 
saving  the  little  strength  I  have  left  to  write 
my  resignation  to  the  trustees  of  Galen  Col- 


TRIXY  279 

lege.  If  I  get  well,  I  shall  go  out  to  California 
and  start  again.  I  shall  be  one  of  those  plain 
men  of  whom  you  spoke  to  me,  and  of  whom 
you  may  yet  be  proud.  I  shall  try  to  live  to 
this  end;  but  it  is  not  quite  certain  that  I  can 
do  so.  If  I  do,  you  shall  respect  me ;  if  I  do 
not,  I  want  you  to  know  that  you  have  restored 
me.    However  it  ends, 

I  am  forever  yours, 

Olin  Steele. 

The  next  night  he  was  not  as  well.  Waves 
of  delirium  came  and  went.  The  physician 
remained  in  the  house.  He  was  puzzled,  be- 
came apprehensive,  and  telephoned  for  a  con- 
sultant. The  patient  paid  little  attention  to 
any  person.  He  noticed  no  one  but  Barry, 
who  had  taken  an  immovable  position  beside 
his  master's  bed.  Once  they  saw  the  professor 
take  his  handkerchief  and  try  to  bandage 
Barry's  head.  The  nurse  said  that  he  made 
as  if  he  were  handing  bowls  of  water  to 
thirsty  dogs.  He  was  heard  to  say :  "  Poor 
things !  Poor  things  !  "  The  nurse  was  per- 
plexed ;  but  Barry  seemed  to  understand,  for 
he  kissed  the  transparent  hand  that  hung  over 


280  TRIXY 

in  his  reach ;  there  were  real  tears  in  Barry's 
eyes. 

Towards  morning  Steele  thought  he  saw  be- 
side him  the  woman  whom  a  man  remembers 
when  all  others  are  forgotten.  His  mother 
took  his  head  upon  her  breast ;  she  whispered 
sympathetically  :  "  Was  it  a  very  pretty  kitty, 
dear?" 

Then  her  tone  changed  abruptly,  and  she 
sang  with  the  voice  of  a  young  woman : 

"  Strong  Son  of  God,  immortal  Love  !  " 

It  seemed  to'  Steele  that  he  took  Miriam's 
letter  out  from  under  his  pillow  and  laid  it  in 
his  mother's  hand.  His  colleagues,  bending 
over  him  to  listen,  thinking  possibly  to  catch 
from  his  lips  some  legacy  of  professional  eru- 
dition, distinctly  heard  him  say :  "  Domini 
doctissimi  .  .  .  pro  quo  Christies  ipse  non 
dedignatus  est  mori^ 

These  domini  doctissimi  were  not  religious 
men,  but  they  bowed,  as  if  they  bared  their 
heads ;  and  the  gentlest  of  them  noticed  with 
surprise  the  nature  of  the  expression  which 
had  descended  upon  the  professor's  face.  He 
looked  like  a  sensitive  and  devout  boy  with 
life  before  him. 


CHAPTER  XV 

As  the  little  steamer  rounded  the  headland 
the  band,  which  consisted  of  a  German  violin, 
an  Italian  flute,  and  an  American  harp  (the 
musical  product  of  Blind  Alley),  struck  into 
one  of  those  popular  airs  that  spur  even  the 
saddest  child  to  dance.  Cady's  Molly  was  not 
a  sad  child,  and,  laughing,  she  began  to 
pirouette  around  the  deck.  Ripples  of  ap- 
plause followed  her  unpremeditated  steps. 
This  was  too  much  for  Trixy.  With  one 
quick  look  at  her  master  she  hopped  from 
his  knee,  and  danced  out  into  the  middle  of 
the  party. 

Cady's  Molly  took  Trixy  by  the  hands  and 
tried  to  adapt  herself  to  her  tiny  partner. 
Molly  was  dressed  with  an  unprecedented 
attempt  at  what  she  had  heard  Miss  Lauriat 
call  s:ood  taste.  Her  frock  was  white  and 
plain,  her  long  stockings  black  and  neat ;  in 
her  shade  hat  only  had  Molly  allowed  her 
personal  views  of  taste  anything  like  liberty. 


282  TRIXY 

Molly  wore  a  soft  floppy  straw  surmounted 
with  a  wreath  of  cranberries  and  violets, 
relieved  by  sweet  peas  and  cherries,  and 
touched  off  with  asparagus. 

The  girl  had  grown,  and  so  had  Dan,  but 
not  in  feet  and  inches.  Dan  was  as  tall  as 
he  ever  would  be,  and  except  for  the  lines 
between  his  brows  he  might  have  passed  for 
a  lad  three  years  younger  than  he  was.  He 
gave  Cady's  Molly  a  quiet  glance,  but  his 
gaze  and  his  soul  were  for  Trixy. 

The  consumptive  woman  sat  in  a  steamer 
chair,  smiling  cheerfully,  and  her  three  little 
girls,  like  three  little  brownies,  followed  Mr. 
Surbridge  about  the  boat.  Cady's  Molly's 
father  observed  this  monopoly  with  some  re- 
gret. He  had  anticipated  the  opportunity  of 
discussing  the  tariff  with  an  eminent  lawyer, 
but  amiably  contented  himself  by  offering 
the  children's  mother  the  morning  paper. 
She  could  not  read ;  hence  she  was  flattered 
by  the  attention. 

"  Nice,  ain't  it  ?  "  said  the  woman,  turning 
her  gaunt  face  to  the  sea  wind.  "  Did  you 
ever  see  anybody  like  her  anywheres  else  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Cady's  Molly's  father,  argu- 


TRIXY  283 

mentatively,  "  I  am  not  perpared  to  say  that 
I  never  did." 

Both  watched  Miss  Lauriat  where  she  stood 
in  the  bow,  looking  gravely  out  to  sea.  At 
her  feet,  on  his  silk  cushion,  lay  a  feeble  dog, 
with  dulled  eyes  that  lighted  only  for  herself 
and  Trixy. 

"  She  ain't  thinkin'  of  us,"  complained  the 
consumptive.    "  There  is  times  she  don't." 

"  They  're  tarnation  few  in  my  opinion," 
replied  Cady's  Molly's  father,  chivalrously 
springing  to  the  lady's  defense.  "  Specially, 
come  to  think  on 't,  these  two  years  back. 
Take  this  here,  now  —  charterin'  steamboats 
to  take  a  crowd  like  us  down  harbor  —  Lord  ! 
How  many  such  trips  was  you  ever  aboard  ?  " 

"  I  never  was  out  to  sea  in  my  life,"  ad- 
mitted the  woman  slowly,  "  except  along  of 
her.  I  used  to  think  the  ocean  was  black, 
same 's  it  is  along  the  wharves.  I  did  n't 
know  it  was  such  a  pretty  color  —  and  clean. 
I  wisht  my  dog  could  have  come  along  o' 
them  others.  He  can't.  He  died  of  his  cough. 
Mine  most  gen'r'lly  do.  She  did  n't  forget 
him.  She  sent  him  an  invitation  along  of  the 
children." 


284  TRIXY 

"  She  's  a  lady,"  announced  Cady's  Molly's 
father  solemnly. 

"  Miss  Laurie,"  said  Dan  in  an  undertone, 
"  Trixy  's  got  it  in  her  again.  Look  at  her  ! 
It 's  a  good  while  since  she  's  played  for  any- 
body but  us  at  home.    What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

Miss  Lauriat,  turning  with  the  swift  mer- 
riment that  Blind  Alley  knew  so  well  (she 
never  suffered  her  poor  people  to  find  her 
sad),  saw  a  pretty  sight.  Everybody  on  board 
had  seen  it  by  now,  and  Trixy  was  the  centre 
of  a  laughing  and  applauding  crowd.  The 
little  actress,  too  long  detained  in  private  life, 
plunged  into  this  momentary  publicity  with  a 
mad  delight.  Who  could  say  what  blighted 
ambition  had  withered  in  Trixy's  soul  ?  What 
ennui  with  obscurity  had  she  experienced? 
What  longing  for  the  exercise  of  neglected 
gifts  ?  What  histrionic  passion  thwarted  ? 
What  innocent  vanities  denied  ?  How  shall 
the  superior  race  decide  ?  How  could  any  one 
who  had  never  been  a  little  white  trick  dog 
presume  to  answer? 

Trixy,  sparkling  with  joy  to  find  an  audi- 
ence again,  spurred  herself  feverishly  to  recall 
her  half -forgotten  repertoire. 


TRIXY  285 

"Run  along,  Dan,"  said  Miss  Lauriat 
quickly.  "  Give  them  all  a  good  time  —  and 
Trixy  too." 

Dan  obeyed  with  summer  in  his  eyes. 
Trixy,  now  supremely  blest,  performed  ecstat- 
ically. She  did  everything  she  knew,  and  a 
good  deal  that  she  did  n't.  She  waltzed,  she 
begged,  she  said  her  prayers,  she  whirled 
from  somersault  to  somersault,  she  found  a 
lemon  in  Mr.  Surbridge's  coat  pocket,  and 
a  pamphlet  on  the  tariff  in  Cady's  Molly's 
father's  hat ;  modestly  draped  in  Miss  Lau- 
riat' s  liberty  silk  scarf,  she  danced  her  little 
skirt  dance  ;  she  flirted  with  the  orchestra, 
she  bridled  at  applause,  and  coquetted  for 
encores  like  any  diva. 

"She  used  to  sing  the  song,"  said  Cady's 
Molly.    "  Give  us  the  song,  Dan." 

Dan  took  Trixy  by  the  right  paw  gallantly, 
as  he  used  to  do  in  the  Mooses'  Retreat,  and 
leading  her  forward  a  few  steps,  began  to 
sing : 

Oh,  we  've  traveled  on  together, 
In  kind  or  cruel  weather. 

But    Trixy   was    suddenly    still.    Dan    began 
again  : 


286  TRIXY 

She  's  my  lady  and  I  '11  love  her 
Till  I  die. 

But  Trixy  stood  drooping  and  silent.  Some 
one  said  that  the  dog  had  forgotten  her  part. 
Dan  looked  into  Trixy' s  face ;  it  had  grown 
pinched,  and  her  eyes  fled  to  her  master's  for 
protection. 

"No,"  he  said,  "  she  hasn't  forgotten.  She 
does  n't  want  to  sing  that  song." 

He  caught  her  and  crooned  over  her;  he 
kissed  her  and  praised  her.  Trixy  cuddled  in 
his  neck  quietly.  She  trembled  and  put  both 
her  hands  in  his.  The  little  actress  lived  to 
pass  many  a  merry  hour  upon  many  a  little 
stage,  but  neither  then  nor  thereafter  could  she 
be  induced  to  join  her  master  in  that  duet. 

Exhausted  by  her  own  accomplishments,  or 
frightened  by  her  darkest  memories,  Trixy 
played  no  more  that  day.  Instead  she  curled 
into  her  master's  lap  and  slept  through  a  thun- 
derstorm. 

Surbridge  came  over  when  the  shower  was 
diminishing,  and  stood  by  Miriam,  who  seemed 
to  him  suddenly  thoughtful  and  quiet. 

"Well?  "he  asked. 

When  he  spoke  in  that  tone  she  always  told 


TRIXY  287 

him  what  was  the  matter ;  she  did  so  quite 
naturally  now. 

"  Phil,  I  've  blundered.  I  meant  to  be  kind, 
but  I  've  blundered  with  those  two.  How  do  I 
know  Dan  has  n't  minded  it  as  well  as  Trixy  ? 
He  would  be  sawn  asunder  before  he  'd  let  me 
know." 

"  If  you  've  got  so  far  as  that,"  suggested 
Surbridge,  "  suppose  you  let  me  have  him  for 
an  office  boy?  Trixy  could  sit  on  my  table.  I've 
thought  for  some  time  that  doing1  errands  un- 
der  Matthew,  and  running  the  furnace,  did  not 
entirely  satisfy  the  higher  nature  of  the  lad." 

"  Why  did  n't  you  say  so,  Phil  ?  Am  I  so 
huffy  and  stuffy  about  advice?" 

"  You  take  advice  like  a  philosopher  —  and 
the  dear  girl  you  are.  I  really  can't  say  why 
I  didn't.  A  fellow  may  have  lucid  intervals 
of  modesty,  I  suppose  —  even  a  lawyer." 

"  It  needs  a  man,"  sighed  Miriam,  "  to  man- 
age a  boy.  I  've  bungled  with  Dan.  I  dare 
say  he's  missed  those  performances  as  much 
as  Trixy.  Probably  he  has  mourned  for  the 
Grand  Mooses'  Retreat  —  and  Cady's  Molly." 

"  I  doubt  it,"  said  Philip,  "  but  we  can  see. 
My  opinion  is,  the  lad  has  missed  nothing  — 


288  TKIXY 

except  the  sacred  right  to  be  a  wage-earner  in 
some  obvious,  active  way  —  and  has  gained  un- 
speakably and  forever.  But,  if  you  choose  to 
turn  him  over  to  me  —  as  he  grows  older  — 
I  '11  try  my  hand  at  him.  It 's  too  late,  in  his 
case,  for  what  is  called  an  education,  but  I  can 
manage  his  grammar,  and  put  a  few  books  in 
his  way/' 

"  Help  me,  Phil,"  said  Miriam,  in  a  very 
low  voice.   "  I  need  it.   ...  I  need  you." 

Across  Surbridge's  strong,  controlled  face 
there  passed  a  sensitiveness  that  seemed  to  sink 
into  it,  and  make  it  plastic  for  an  expression 
which  still  lacked  a  moulding  hand. 

"  I  thank  you,"  he  said  quietly,  "  for  that. 
You've  made  a  lot  of  poor  wretches  happy 
to-day,  including  me." 

Miriam  turned  away.  "  Perhaps  so  —  I  hope 
so.    But,  oh,  Phil,  I  'm  tired." 

She  walked  away  from  him,  nodding  and 
smiling  at  her  guests,  until  she  came  to  the 
stern  of  the  boat,  where  she  stood  looking 
upon  the  wake.  The  little  steamer  was  now 
heading  into  the  harbor  and  the  sun.  The 
band  was  brightly  playing.  The  deck  glit- 
tered with  drops  of  rain,  and  steamed.    The 


TRIXY  289 

chatter  that  had  been  subdued  by  the  shower 
broke  forth  after  it  like  birds.  It  had  sud- 
denly grown  very  sultry,  and  Miriam  threw 
off  her  long  coat,  and  stood  in  her  white  flan- 
nel boating  dress,  tall  and  aloof,  against  the 
sky.  The  steamer  was  now  leaving  the  rain 
and  the  clouds  behind. 

Slowly,  almost  imperceptibly,  two  vast  pris- 
matic pillars  arose  from  the  sea.  Advancing, 
receding,  pulsating,  but  ever  arising,  the  col- 
umns of  color  approached  each  other.  It  was 
as  if  invisible  hands  were  building  out  of  beams 
of  light  a  bridge  for  a  god  to  cross.  The  rain- 
bow, seen  the  hundredth  time,  is  as  much  a 
miracle  as  it  was  the  first.  Miriam's  poor  peo- 
ple broke  into  simple  cries  of  wonder  and  de- 
light ;  but  these  hushed  into  low  exclamations, 
and  then  into  the  silence  of  something  that 
they  did  not  understand  well  enough  to  call 
it  awe. 

In  the  centre  of  the  radiant  arc,  white  and 
rapt,  she  stood  —  at  her  fc^jt  the  martyred 
dog  —  over  her  head  the  symbol  of  everlasting 
hope,  into  whose  mighty  span  her  youth,  her 
beauty,  her  pity,  and  her  sadness  seemed  all 
alike  to  melt.   He  who  was  gone  had  called 


290  TRIXY 

her  mercy  made  magic.  Mercy  made  promise, 
she  seemed  to  yearn  out,  now,  from  the  heart 
of  the  sky  to  the  need  of  the  earth.  More 
than  one  of  those  whom  she  had  made  happy 
saw  her  through  tears  at  that  moment,  as  if 
she  had  been  transfigured  before  them. 

It  was  dusk  when  the  steamer  was  warped 
to  the  wharf.  The  lungs  of  the  city  exhaled 
fire,  and  Miriam's  tender  face  saddened  as  she 
bade  her  friends  good-night. 

"  Poor  things  !  "  she  said  —  "  Poor  people  ! 
Think  of  the  hot  homes  they  go  to  !  "  She 
stirred  towards  Philip  remorsefully.  "  For- 
give me  for  forgetting  —  You  too  !  You  have 
given  up  so  much  of  your  vacation  for  them, 
for  us ;  you  would  have  been  in  the  country." 

Philip  laughed  gayly.  "  If  you  think  for  a 
minute  I  stayed  on  your  account  —  I  've  got  a 
newsboy  in  the  police  court  to-morrow  morn- 
ing.   I  've  got  to  look  after  him." 

"Philip,"  said  Miriam  timidly,  "don't 
snub  me !  Come  !  Is  there  any  real  reason 
why  you  should  n't  come  out  with  us  and 
stay  until  to-morrow  ?    Aunt  Cornelia  "  - — 

"  Do  you  wish  it  —  on  the  whole  ?  Are  you 
sure  ?  "  asked  Philip  gravely. 


TRIXY  291 

Miriam  hesitated.  "  I  think  I  do.  I  'm  sure 
I  do.    Yes  —  I  wish  it  altogether." 

"Very  well,  then.  I'll  take  Caro.  He's 
too  heavy  for  you." 

In  a  moment  he  had  assumed  all  her  cares ; 
and  the  woman  in  her  was  mysteriously  glad 
to  cast  them  upon  him. 

The  shore  train  was  crowded  and  seething. 
Surbridge  turned  the  seat,  and  the  lame  boy 
and  the  two  dogs  sat  before  them.  Miriam 
was  very  tired.  She  glanced  at  Philip.  It 
troubled  her  a  little  to  find  that  he  was  such 
a  comfort  to  her.  She  was  almost  startled 
at  the  turn  her  thoughts  were  taking.  Some- 
thing  within  her  arose  and  clung  to  his  pre- 
sence as  if  she  could  not  spare  it.  She  laid 
her  head  against  the  side  of  the  window, 
and  tried  to  elude  the  images  that  pursued 
her.  But  Philip  sat  comfortably  reading  an 
evening  paper  at  her  side ;  as  if  he  belonged 
there. 

"Tired?"  he  asked.  "Try  to  rest.  Leave 
everything  to  me.  I  '11  look  out  for  the  dogs, 
and  the  boy  —  and  you,  too." 

Once  or  twice  she  looked  enviously  at  Dan. 
The  lad,  who  knew  none  of  the  discomforts 


292  TRIXY 

of  unclassified  feeling,  clasped  his  idol  to  his 
heart,  and,  worshiping  what  he  protected, 
entered  into  peace.  Trixy  had  long  since 
ceased  to  play  with  her  master's  pathetic  de- 
votion ;  the  elf -look  had  never  returned  to 
her  eyes  since  she  and  he  were  reunited  after 
death  and  science  had  given  up  the  secrets 
which  were  in  them.  Trixy  loved,  at  last,  as 
she  was  beloved ;  and  the  lonely  lad  drank 
deeper  of  blessedness  than  most  of  us  do  who 
quench  our  thirst  at  the  cup  of  human  loyalty. 

Mrs.  Percy  B.  Jeffries  had  dined.  The  be- 
lated two  waited  for  their  broiled  chicken  and 
raspberries.  Miriam  ran  upstairs  to  change 
her  dress,  and  put  Caro  to  bed.  Surbridge 
strolled  in  from  the  piazza,  and  found  Mrs. 
Jeffries  conscientiously  reading  by  an  ivory 
porcelain  lamp,  softened  through  a  white 
tulle  overskirt.  For  some  unexplained  reason 
Miriam  had  long  ago  discarded  the  blue  shade. 
Aunt  Cornelia  laid  down  her  book,  and  re- 
garded the  young  man  with  a  tender  attention. 
It  somehow  seemed  to  Philip  an  unusual  one, 
but  for  what  reason  he  could  not  have  ex- 
plained. 


TRIXY  293 

"I  have  been  reading,"  said  Atint  Cornelia, 
"  a  most  extraordinary  scientific  work.  It 
treats  of  the  subterranean  life  of  India  and 
Tennessee.  I  have  found  it  very  instructive. 
I  had  no  idea  that  caves  were  so  convenient ; 
they  would  make  excellent  summer  hotels.  I 
am  particularly  attracted  by  a  certain  kind  of 
creature — I  think  they  call  it  a  polyaphron 
—  is  that  it  ?  Well,  it  does  n't  signify.  Did 
you  ever  hear  about  it?  It  is  considered  the 
blindest  of  created  beings.  Listen  a  minute, 
and  I  '11  read  you  what  the  author  says  about 
it.  The  book  is  written  by  one  of  those  de- 
lightful swamis  who  visit  the  drawing-rooms 
of  this  country." 

Mrs.  Jeffries  put  on  her  glasses,  and  slowly 
and  impressively  read : 

"  The  polyaphron  "  — 

"  The  polyaphron  !  "  interrupted  Philip, 
"  what  a  delicious  name !  I  suppose  that 
means  all  kinds  of  a  fool?" 

"Does  it?"  said  Mrs.  Jeffries.  "Just 
listen.  *  The  polyaphron  is  found  only  in 
one  cave  in  the  world.  It  has  rudimentary 
wings,  and  it  is  supposed  that  in  prehistoric 
times  it  could  have  flown  out  if  it  had  de- 


294  TRIXY 

sired.  It  is  born  nearly  blind,  and  dies 
wholly  so.'  " 

Mrs.  Jeffries  laid  down  her  book  and  looked 
over  her  spectacles  at  the  young  attorney  — 
a  thing  which  he  had  never  seen  her  do 
before.  It  made  her  look  suddenly  an  old 
woman. 

"My  dear  boy,"  she  observed,  with  that 
half-whimsical  affectionateness  which  ahvays 
commanded  the  young  man's  chivalry,  "  I 
was  born  too  early,  or  you  too  late.  If  you 
had  been  studying  law  when  I  was  a  young 
lady,  I  should  have  taken  you  myself  —  that 
is,  if  I  had  never  met  Mr.  Jeffries,  and  if  you 
had  asked  me." 

"  Which,"  said  Philip  gallantly,  "  you  may 
rest  assured,  madam,  that  I  should  have  done 
—  or  else,  despairing,  envied  Mr.  Jeffries." 

"  Gracefully  answered,"  pursued  Mrs.  Jef- 
fries placidly,  "  like  yourself  —  and  like  your 
father,  too.  Here  's  Miriam  !  You  two  run 
and  get  your  dinner,  while  I  finish  my  poly- 
aphron." 

"  Is  it  possible,"  thought  Philip,  "  that  she 
extemporized  that  ?  I  should  n't  have  given 
her  credit  for  it."    He  put  his  hand  out  for 


TRIXY  295 

the  book,  but  Aunt  Cornelia  laughed,  and 
turned  it  face  down  upon  her  lap. 

She  read  no  more  in  that  remarkable  scien- 
tific volume  which  had  served  perhaps  a  bet- 
ter purpose  than  it  ever  had  before,  or  would 
again.  Her  eyes  did  not  follow  the  young 
people ;  but  her  mouth  had  the  wistf  ulness 
that  age  feels  for  youth,  and  loneliness  for 
life. 

When  Miriam  and  Philip  sat  down  together 
opposite  each  other  in  the  bright  dining-room 
Philip  uttered  a  low  exclamation. 

In  the  soft  penumbra  of  the  rose-shaded 
candles  she  seemed  to  arise  before  him  as  the 
spectrum  had  arisen  from  the  sea,  in  a  sud- 
den sheen  of  color  —  the  first  that  he  had 
seen  her  wear  since  her  father  died.  This 
miracle  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a 
prismatic  summer  silk,  but  to  the  young  man 
she  seemed  to  be  clothed  in  a  rainbow. 

They  talked  little  and  lightly,  and  by  a 
mutual  instinct  sought  the  presence  of  a  third 
as  soon  as  possible.  But  when  they  got  back 
to  the  lace-covered  lamp,  Aunt  Cornelia  was 
not  there.  They  sat  down  in  the  large  empty 
room   in   something   like    constraint.    Philip 


296  TRIXY 

found  himself  monotonously  repeating,  — 
"  The  polyaphron  is  born  nearly  blind,  and 
dies  wholly  so." 

Miriam  was  restless,  and  shimmered  over  to 
the  long  window,  where  she  stood  looking  out 
upon  the  water. 

The  dead  August  night  was  breathless  and 
soundless.  Scarcely  a  sigh  crept  up  the  cliffs. 
On  Miriam's  face  rested  the  expression  which 
the  man  who  should  win  her  would  never  see. 
Like  all  women  whose  thoughts  are  high,  and 
whose  years  are  young,  she  had  never  con- 
sidered the  nature  of  a  second  love.  It  would 
not  be  too  much  to  say  that  she  had  never 
thought  of  it  as  for  her  a  possible  experience. 
She  had  reached  the  inevitable  emergency  of 
a  fine  and  ardent  soul  that  has  given  its  first, 
but  not  its  noblest  passion. 

She  had  reversed  the  great  quotation.  She 
had  begun  by  loving  Love.  If  she  loved  again, 
she  would  love  the  lover.  If  she  did  so,  if 
she  could  do  so,  where  was  the  dream  of  her- 
self, which  is  dearer  to  such  a  woman  than 

j°y? 

A  subtle  allegiance,  though  to  a  misguided 
feeling,  oppressed  her.   There  were  times  when 


TRIXY  297 

a  sense  of  something  almost  mystical  disturbed 
her ;  winds  had  speech  and  tides  language ; 
the  sea  lifted  arms  as  if  it  would  drag  her ; 
from  the  spaces  between  the  stars  peremptory 
tones  addressed  her  inarticulately ;  the  atmos- 
phere inclosed  her  as  if  it  clasped;  she  seemed 
to  be  hunted  by  a  thwarted,  but  still  relent- 
less will. 

"  Do  you  mind  my  coming,  too  ? "  asked 
Surbridge. 

Philip  had  the  personality  that  will  elect 
to  lose  rather  than  to  win  by  intrusion.  The 
heart  that  would  not  give  itself  to  him  hap- 
pily he  would  disdain  to  capture ;  he  had 
never  spoken  a  commanding  word  to  Miriam ; 
he  had  treated  her  with  the  quiet  strength 
which  has  no  need  to  assert  itself ;  he  had 
never  lacked  in  consideration,  but  he  had 
never  urged  her  will.  Sometimes  Miriam 
had  thought  that  the  woman  to  whom  Philip 
should  offer  his  chartered  affection  "  for  sun 
and  candlelight "  would  be  exceptionally  cher- 
ished. 

Now,  when  he  spoke,  she  turned  a  gentle 
invitation.  Her  manner  was  without  anima- 
tion, as  her  eyes  were  without  hope.    She  ex- 


298  TRIXY 

perienced  the  profound,  unnatural  weariness 
of  one  who  in  a  baffled  struggle  for  freedom 
had  shattered  herself  against  an  imprisoning 
attraction.  To  that  captivity  she  had  been  mis- 
directed by  force ;  now,  her  sensibility  looked 
everywhere  for  the  trodden  roads  of  tender- 
ness. All  she  could  think  of  in  the  world  that 
she  wanted  was  kindness  —  the  daily  shelter 
of  a  safe  character ;  she  craved  common  com- 
fort, she  needed  simple  rest,  as  though  she 
had  been  a  much  older  woman  than  she  was. 
It  seemed  to  her  as  if  her  youth  had  been 
stunned ;  she  came  back  gravely  to  conscious- 
ness of  it.  She  found  herself  inhaling  life 
slowly,  and  with  a  certain  reluctance  foreign 
to  her  healthy,  joyous  temperament.  She 
knew  she  must  breathe  the  sympathy  that 
she  could  trust. 

Her  old  friend's  firm  but  lenient  nature 
seemed  to  encroach  upon  hers.  Her  heart 
leaned  towards  his  bosom.  But  was  this  love  ? 
She  felt  as  if  only  he  could  answer,  or  teach 
her  how  to  do  so. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  asked  Philip  quietly, 
"  telling  Dan  —  that  night  —  that  I  always 
found  everything  I  wanted  ?  " 


TRIXY  299 

"  No,"  said  Miriam,  "  you  have  n't  got  it 
right.  I  said  you  found  everything  you 
tried  to." 

Then  the  crimson  dismay  of  a  woman  un- 
wooed  fled  across  her  face.  She  remembered 
that  Philip  had  never  spoken  a  word  of  love 
to  her,  not  one. 

"  But,  dear,  I  have  loved  you  all  my  life," 
he  began. 


EUctrotyped  and  printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &*  Co. 
Cambridge ,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


912912b 


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